


Ship of Dreams

by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite



Series: Kinkmeme Story Prompts [24]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Arranged Marriage, Bonding, Class Difference, Drawing, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Heat Cycles, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mason Verger is Mason Verger, Mentions of Violence, Rescue, Soulmates, alpha/beta/omega, historical events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:02:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25537768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: Will had no one to wave to. He had no one to see him off. Even so opulently dressed, he had nothing at all to his name but his ability to bear children when the time came. It didn’t feel like the ship of dreams to him, even with Margot shoulder to shoulder with him, smiling wide in the afternoon sunshine. To Will it was a ship carrying him off to the rest of his miserable life.The Titanic AU that (no)everyone has been waiting for.
Relationships: (mentioned) Mason Verger/Will Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Kinkmeme Story Prompts [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575217
Comments: 165
Kudos: 547
Collections: Hannigram Kinkmeme





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nephila_clavipes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nephila_clavipes/gifts).



> We couldn't help it, when Neph dropped the idea of this in the kinkmeme in Jan we had to jump on board (haha!) and so... here we are ;)
> 
> Plus, there was gorgeous art to inspire us along the way!!

The crowds always got to Will. Noise, all the screaming and crying and cheering. 

His father had packed him up when he was a small little thing, just into puberty. He’d wanted to raise Will where he’d been raised, a place where he could call upon family to help him raise his only child as a proper Omega. 

But the cousins had all passed, over the years, and there had been none left to take in an Omega of marriageable age when illness had taken his father. There’d been no inheritance to make a dowry, or to pay Will’s way through a finishing school or some other path for orphaned Omegas, so off to the group home he’d gone with the other unwed boys his age. 

Had he been born an Alpha, he’d be off making his own fortune by now. At 18, he would already have been on his own. 

But he had been cursed with a womb instead, and so what Will had, was Mason. 

Mason Verger had picked him out of a crowd in the market, and taken him from the group home the next day. He could not claim Will until his upcoming heat, and so Will stayed in the care and companionship of Mason’s sister, Margot. It was Margot who would share Will’s rooms as they traveled back to America in far more lavish conditions than Will had left it. 

“You always look so dreary,” Mason complained, holding out his hand to help Will step out from the automobile. “It’s a ship, William, it isn’t going to bite you. That’s  _ my _ job.”

“Not yet, dear brother,” Margot reminded him, stepping out and taking Will’s arm. Will was unfathomably grateful for Margot. He still had no idea how to move in the clothes he was wearing, he’d never worn so many layers at once: an undershirt, a button up in heavy cotton, a cravat in silk, a vest, a jacket… to say nothing of the breeches and pants, sock garters and socks, button up boots… not only clothes, he had no idea how to behave in high society at all.

Mason had told him to keep his mouth shut unless spoken to, and then to merely repeat words Margot had coached him in, to smother his “pathetic poor accent”.

“I’ve not been on a boat for a long time,” Will offered quietly, his dawl coming through thick. Margot patted his hand.

“It’s a smooth trip, Will, don’t worry yourself. First class cabins are high up enough to be very stable.”

“They  _ better be _ for what I’ve paid for them,” Mason said, checking his pocket watch. “Do make sure those  _ Irish _ don’t drop anything moving it to our rooms.”

Will winced, but said nothing. Margot had had more experience schooling her expressions around her brother. “You worry too much,” she told him, looking to his back when Mason sauntered over to the gangplank. She leaned to whisper in Will’s ear. “He will drink himself into a stupor before supper, and neither you nor I will be welcome for brandy and cigars.”

“Thank Christ for that,” Will admitted, watching Margot’s lips purse in amusement at his language.

“ _ Margot! _ Come  _ on _ , don’t keep me  _ waiting _ . You know how much I hate waiting.”

Up the gangplank, narrow and uncomfortable, and right into the belly of the beast. The elevators had gleaming metal gates on them. They slid closed with a sense of finality, trapping Will inside a cage.

They went down only one level, this time. On his trip years ago, he and his father had sunk down low into the ship, with the rats. The halls here were opulent, well lit, and full of movement as men carted crates into suites. 

Margot and Will shared a cluster of rooms, connected to Mason’s rooms by a locked door. Will caught Margot’s eye and knew they’d be sliding a crate in front of it the moment they were alone. 

“We’ve brought so much,” he murmured, watching maids hang clothes he’d never before owned in the closets. “Surely much of this could have been purchased in New York?”

“But what sort of an Alpha would I be if I didn’t spoil my bitch?” Mason’s hand landed heavily on Will’s shoulders, catching some of his curls painfully. He ignored Margot’s look, the closest to a reprimand she would dare come, and leaned in to rub his nose under Will’s jaw, the scenting practically obscene for how many strangers were about. “You know I’ll take care of you, don’t you, little thing?”

“Mason!” Margot piped up, sensing Will’s obvious discomfort, “I thought perhaps Will might like to see the ship pull away from the docks? Say goodbye to England?”

“What’s there to say goodbye to? Everything that matters is right here?” But Mason was always glad for an excuse to be off doing his own thing, and he ruffled Will’s hair, shoving him lightly towards Margot. “Go, then, and afterwards make sure he’s dressed for dinner.”

Because of course, the dozens of layers Will was already wearing were far from a formal dinner outfit. The rich were beyond him. Thank god for Margot. 

Upstairs again to the open air, through the crowds massing on the main deck to see off England. Margot dragged Will up to the railing, standing close as others pressed in to wave and shout and farewell the country that had given them so much - or taken so much - for one in which dreams were made.

Will had no one to wave to. He had no one to see him off. Even so opulently dressed, he had nothing at all to his name but his ability to bear children when the time came. It didn’t feel like the ship of dreams to him, even with Margot shoulder to shoulder with him, smiling wide in the afternoon sunshine. To Will it was a ship carrying him off to the rest of his miserable life.

* * *

Hannibal hadn’t bought a ticket to the Titanic, he hadn’t even considered it. Outside of the clothes on his back and his satchel, his most expensive possessions were the lead pencils and charcoal and chalk he had in his case, carefully folded and secured away. His sketchbooks, bound with fraying hemp rope and dog-eared from use were worth more to him than any ticket to any fancy boat.

But he had always been excellent at poker.

And when the winnings consisted of fifteen pounds and eleven shillings, and a third class ticket to America, Hannibal was hardly one to turn down a free ride.

Paris could wait; it would still be there when he got back. He needed new horizons, new cityscapes, new accents. He needed adventure to fuel his blood and warm his bones.

He charmed his way onto the ship with the gangplank already pulled away, and landed heavily on the wooden boards just as the first deep bellow of the horn sounded, announcing Titanic’s departure.

The first thing Hannibal did was bolt for the deck. He was not one to shove, but one had to in a crowd like this. He nudged his way through, nearly crushing some poor thing and his chaperone. He helped the woman steady herself, shot them both his most charming smile, and kept going. 

Through the bodies and the crush of the crowd, there was Southampton, his home for all of three days. Beyond that, the rest of England, and then Paris, and his Uncle’s home in the French countryside. 

But that had not been Hannibal's home for a very long time. Now, the RMS Titanic was his home, and a beautiful home she was. The  _ people _ one saw here, all shapes and sizes, none as interesting, yet, as his subjects back in Paris, but he would learn them. He’d fill his sketchbook and be ready for something new in New York. 

The accommodations weren’t the finest, but Hannibal had slept in worse. He took the stairs, mostly. The elevators came down to third class, but they were crowded with the wealthy, those who’d never worked a day in their life. Hannibal avoided them, claiming his bunk in a room full of strangers. He need only sleep here. The rest of the time could be spent exploring. 

His first adventure would be to find some food. 

* * *

The meal tasted like ash in Will’s mouth. He’d been sat directly next to Mason, and he felt both overheated and not nearly covered enough in the silk shirt and soft waistcoat. Margot had tied him into a corset, just around his waist, and it added both to his discomfort and his heated temperature. 

His neck was left bare, when he might have preferred a cravat, exposing the pale skin to intent Alpha gazes. It was the fashion now, when a few years back it might have been thought scandalous. Show off the real estate, see who comes to buy. 

Mason was in his element. A table full of lesser men, rich in their own right but none heirs to a dynasty like the Verger family. All looking to Mason to see what was funny, what was interesting, what they should talk about. 

“And of course,” Mason was saying, “the first thing I’ll have to do is set up a nest for my bitch. They’re such  _ fickle  _ things, he’s never  _ satisfied _ .”

Laughter, crude and too-loud, and Will busied himself with dissecting another sliver of white fish from the rest of the piece on his plate. He wasn’t hungry. He felt too ill to be hungry. He looked up to catch Margot’s eyes - she was seated with some of the other women a little further down the table. She offered Will a brief tilt of her lips - all she could do with the distance and social expectations at the table.

“But we are, of  _ course _ here to spoil them, aren’t we?” Mason continued. Beneath the table he set a hand to Will’s thigh and squeezed hard with his fingers. Will barely managed to swallow the morsel of food he’d pushed between his teeth.

“Perhaps they are less fickle and more unknowable,” another Alpha added, his accent put him immediately at the top of the food chain of British high society. Will remembered his name was Dimmond, but didn’t recall a first name. He was looking at Will with an expression that for once did not make him feel like a suckling pig. His smile was there but soft, his eyes didn’t immediately run over Will’s exposed skin like a physical grope. He held Will’s gaze before turning his own away first.

“I’ve yet to find one myself, they’re rather enigmatic aren’t they?”

Mason’s laughter barked harsh through the room, quieting a few conversations on tables nearby before they resumed once more. “What  _ enigma _ can there be in a thing made for  _ breeding? _ ”

Will winced, trying to shift away from Mason’s brutal hold beneath the table. The other Alpha tilted his head, curious, and looked to Will before shifting his eyes to Mason again. 

“Are we still so archaic in the colonies?” He asked, to warm chuckles around the table. Will noted that Margot had to hide her smile behind a delicate sip of wine. “I would consider an Omega a companion, as well as someone to bear children.”

“My daddy always said,” nothing ever good followed those words. Both Will and Margot tensed. “That the best breeding stock can come from the lowliest of places. Look how beautiful he is,” Mason’s hand mercifully moved from Will’s thigh to catch his chin, tilting it almost obscenely high until Will made a plaintive little noise in his throat. “Pick em out of the gutters and clean them up. They don’t need to  _ talk _ or  _ do anything _ but  _ lie there _ after all. We do all the work anyway.”

He did not seem to have impressed Dimmond, but the rest of the Alphas around the table laughed. They’d smile and nod for anyone, if the tides were turned their way. Best to agree with whoever commandeered the room. Often, it was Mason, simply by virtue of being the loudest. 

Mason released Will’s chin with a patronizing little pat to his cheek. “He’ll give me handsome Alphas to take over and  _ beautiful _ Omegas to sell off, and that’s  _ all _ he’ll ever have to worry about for the  _ rest _ of his life. It’s an easy life, just spreading your legs for  _ cock _ or for  _ birth _ . I’m very nearly  _ jealous _ .”

He said more, Will was sure, as did the other men, but it was the last Will heard. He spent the rest of his meal stabbing dispassionately at his fish, turning out the rest of the table until the Alphas rose to head off for brandy and cigars. A respite from Mason, for a handful of hours, before the torment began again. And Will had woken with a fever this morning. It was only a matter of days before his heat came. He’d be lucky if he managed to step onto American soil before Mason stripped him down and knotted him. 

And then a life of that. Of being knotted whenever Mason liked, of bearing children who would be raised in a manner he detested, the Alphas taken from him by Mason’s education, the Omegas taken from him by strangers. 

“Margot,” he said, when desserts had been cleared away and they’d begun the trip back to their rooms, “I think I’ll take a walk. I’ll be back soon.”

He was not, technically, meant to wander off without her. Perhaps poor Omegas had that luxury, but the rich had chaperones. But Margot was a gift, and she had merely kissed his cheek and left him to his walk. 

He did not walk. He ran. 

It was growing late, well past a decent person’s bed time. Will did not feel decent. He felt disgusting, filthy. He felt hands all over him. He ran, up the stairs, out onto the deck. Across shadowy planks and around covered lifeboats. He ran until he ran out of ship, and then, peering over the railing, he realized there was only one place left to go. 

His shoes, new and tight with the slightest bit of a heel to them, slipped on the cold railings. He pulled himself over and stood there, his hands gripping tight to the rails, his curls tangling in the wind, the black ocean swirling just below him. 

He wondered if it would be quick, or if death would be just another thing to torment him at the end of a long list. He didn’t want it. What he wanted was to step off the boat alone, to slip into the streets of New York and vanish without a trace. 

But that would never be an option, and so here Will stood, tears streaming down his cheeks. All he had to do was let go. Just let go. One finger at a time, slowly prying his left hand open. He was shaking. His body wouldn’t let him do it. Just  _ let go _ . 

“Excuse me,”

Will’s hands gripped tight to the railing again and he turned to look over his shoulder. The Alpha approaching him wasn’t one that had been at the dinner, thank God. He was dressed in worn overalls, a loose shirt, no jacket. Will could already feel goosebumps over his arms underneath his dinner-wear, he could only imagine how cold the other was.

“Don’t come any closer,” he warned, turning to look over into the roiling waters of the Atlantic again. “I’ll let go.”

“I don’t think you will.”

Will’s brows furrowed, anger boiling up to take the place of panic as he glared over his shoulder again. “What?”

“You would have done it already, had you truly wished to jump.” The Alpha pointed out, taking a step nearer despite Will’s earlier warning. Will tensed further, eyes wide. He had the overwhelming urge to present his throat, to be calmed by someone who wasn’t  _ Mason _ , to be held and told it would be alright, that he could run away, disappear, vanish into thin air if he wanted.

“I’m wondering,” the Alpha continued, “what would drive such a handsome man to the back of the most beautiful ship in the world.”

Will scoffed. “The ship of dreams.”

“You don’t think so.”

“I don’t -” Will shook his head. “You’re distracting me, please go away.”

Instead of leaving, the Alpha bent, undoing the laces of his worn boots.

“What are you doing?”

“Preparing for a swim.” The Alpha took another step. Downwind like this, Will could smell him, warm and soothing. Much more comforting than the manic pheromones Mason tended to give off. “Stepping back and watching you is as good as pushing you in myself,” the Alpha continued. “If you jump, I jump.”

Will shook his head, grip tightening around the cold metal. “Hitting the water would be like hitting concrete. It’d kill you.”

“Unfortunately, we aren’t quite as high up as you might have hoped.” Still a few feet away, just out of reach, the Alpha leaned over the rails to peer into the black churning waves. “It wouldn’t kill either of us. It would hurt, certainly, but not as much as the temperature.”

Will gave his potential grave another, more hesitant look. “The temperature?”

The Alpha hummed, a frown tightening his features. “Freezing, or thereabouts. Have you ever been freezing? Not cold, but true, genuine, freezing?”

“No,” Will admitted. He’d come from the southern states, and their home in London had been adequately heated.”

“It feels like a thousand knives,” The Alpha said, “over every inch of you. When I was a boy, my family home became snowed in, five feet drifts keeping us isolated from the world. Eventually, as the last one left, I braved the snow to try and reach town. I nearly didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry,” Will said quietly. The Alpha shook his head. 

“It no longer matters. Still, I don’t look forward to reliving the experience. It is not the quick death you were hoping for.”

Will swallowed. He’d just wanted it to stop, everything to stop. But this, this cold, stabbing pain… and he would not bring someone else with him.

“Why don’t you give me your hand?” The Alpha asked gently. “Let me help you back over. We can talk, if you like, or just sit quietly. You look chilled.”

Now that Will truly thought about it, he wasn’t just chilled, he was shaking. His hands were curled so tightly over the railing they felt fused to it, and the longer he stared into the churning water the less he wanted to fall in. Maybe it was the way the Alpha smelled, soothing, warm,  _ safe _ , the way Mason had never smelled to Will, maybe it was the thought that for once, for  _ once _ , since his father had died, someone had looked at Will and had given a shit.

He nodded.

When the Alpha stepped nearer, Will reached out, taking his hand. God, it was so warm. Wide and calloused and strong. Will shivered this time not from the cold but because he wanted to press  _ closer _ , to draw his nose against the Alpha’s tanned throat and breathe him in.

“There we go,” the Alpha said, smiling when Will let his eyes move over his face. “I appreciate you saving me a harrowing reliving of a dark moment of my past. My name is Hannibal, by the way.”

Will laughed softly, he couldn’t help it, and ducked his head. “Will Graham,” he told him.  _ Soon to be Verger. Soon to be invisible. _ But he wasn’t invisible now, he wasn’t a ‘bitch of good stock’, he was a man holding the hand of another in a way he never had before, and in a way he’d imagined he never could.

This was crazy. He was just emotional and tired, the dinner had gone awfully and he’d overreacted, and now he was standing on the back of the Titanic, on the verge of falling into the ocean or giving himself to an Alpha that wasn’t his.

The thought jarred him, enough that he loosened his grip on the hand that held his and lost his footing on the railing that had started to ice over.

“No!” Eyes closed, body tense, heart hammering in his throat as Will prepared for the impact of the ocean, the thousand knives the Alpha had spoken of.

Instead, a sure grip, tight and impossible to ignore, held him aloft. “Will,” Hannibal’s voice filtered through Will’s panic. “Will, you have to give me your other hand and pull yourself up.”

Will whined, high and loud in his throat, swinging his hand blindly towards Hannibal. A strong hand grabbed for his fingers and missed. Will’s whine grew to a scream, pure terror flooding him as he opened his eyes and reached for Hannibal again. 

Hannibal caught his wrist, holding it tight as Will kicked his feet against the sides of the ship, struggling for a foothold. He nearly wept when he felt one of the railings beneath his shoe, then another, until he was tumbling over into Hannibal’s arms. They both toppled over, rolling until Hannibal was sprawled over him. Will was still whining, shaking with terrified distress. 

“Shh.” Hannibal cupped Will’s cheek, dragging him in against the scent glands in his throat. “Shh, Will, you’re alright. You’re safe now.”

Will took in deep lungfuls of Hannibal’s scent, calming himself with the thick haze of pheromones. His eyes were glassy when Hannibal released him, his body still trembling, but no longer whining.

Will stared up at Hannibal, longing overtaking him. Hannibal stared back, and then-

“What’s the meaning of this?” Crew members, drawn by Will’s cries, hauled Hannibal off of him. “Are you alright, sir?” One asked, helping Will to his feet. 

“Yes,” he sighed, blinking languidly, mind calmer than it had been in weeks. Until he saw someone pull shackles out and yank Hannibal’s arms behind his back. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“No need to worry, sir, we’ve got him under control now, he won’t hurt you again.”

“But he wasn’t -”

“ _ Will _ .” Mason’s voice seemed to always be yelling, even when he wasn’t raising it. The peace Will had known for just a moment had already shattered around him. “What are you  _ doing _ back here you stupid boy?  _ Alone _ and  _ unminded _ . Has my sister been negligible?”

“No, Mason,” Will swallowed, throat dry, “Margot -” he saw her now, running quickly in her beautiful shoes, eyes wide in panic as she took in the scene and Mason in particular. “It’s silly really. Margot and I were walking, I needed to clear my head after too much champagne and she obliged me, even though she hates the cold,”

Margot stepped closer, eyes narrowing but not denying anything. Mason and Hannibal both watched Will carefully. He licked his lips.

“I decided to look over the railing to see the mechanics of the boat, the way something so large could possibly move, and I slipped. Margot ran for aid, and if it wasn’t for this young man here who answered the call first, I would be over the side now in the sea.”

There was silence, the lie hung between everyone like a bad smell before one of the crewmen cleared his throat. “Is that what happened, Miss?” he asked Margot. She blinked quickly, nodding her head, a hand coming to her chest as though to soothe a shock.

“It is,” she replied. “It is, I wouldn’t have been able to hold him without the help of -”

“Hannibal.”

“Hannibal,” she offered a smile. “You know how feeble we women are.”

This seemed to somewhat assuage them. They freed Hannibal from the irons, patting his shoulder.

“ _ Women _ and  _ Omegas  _ alike,” Mason drawled, “dreadfully  _ frail _ creatures. It’s a wonder they  _ survive _ at all.”

“Speaking of which,” Margot added, hastily trying to bring the situation back under control. “Brother, dear, Will looks frightfully chilled. We should get him inside.”

Mason blinked at her for a moment, as if the idea of Will having bodily needs of his own had never occurred to him. “Right,” he eventually said, “of  _ course _ he’s chilled, the…  _ delicate _ little thing. And  _ who _ takes care of Omegas?”

“Alphas,” Margot supplied helpfully, giving Mason a meaningful look. Mason would not be directed or ordered, but he enjoyed feeling as though everyone around would fall to pieces without him. Emboldened by his own pride in himself, he removed his coat, draping it over Will’s shoulders and yanking him in close. 

“ _ There _ we go, Will, Darling, Dearest,  _ Doll,” _ Mason said, wrapping an arm securely around Will’s shoulders. 

Hannibal was looking from Mason to Will with a look of irritation and dawning comprehension. Will steadfastly ignored his gaze, his own eyes on his shoes. 

“Perhaps a reward for the boy?" The Man-At-Arms suggested. 

“Of  _ course.  _ A token of my gratitude for saving my legacy.”

He held a note out towards Hannibal, who eyed it with distaste. Will’s own disgust was palpable; it was a tidy sum, but he’d seen Mason tip more to  _ chauffeurs _ . 

“I thought the going rate for Omegas was much higher these days,” he said aloud, unable to stop himself. “Have we devalued ourselves so much?”

All eyes swung to Will. Mason’s held an odd combination of anger and amusement. Much amused Mason, even when he felt it needed squashing. 

“Ah, my poor little bitch is  _ unhappy _ ,” He whispered. “They’re all such  _ spoiled  _ things,” he added loudly to the rest of the group, “but  _ much _ easier to bear when they aren’t in a snit. Would you join us for dinner tomorrow, Mr.  _ Hannibal?” _

Hannibal looked between Mason and Will, Will and Mason, before slowly inclining his head. "I'd be honored."

"Of  _ course _ you will be. It's settled then. Tomorrow for dinner. We dine in the  _ main _ hall, I'm sure you'll find it without trouble."

"I'm sure." Hannibal replied. Mason's smile was blinding, too-wide, entirely inauthentic. He yanked Will close and set a hand to the back of his neck to lead him away.

Back in their room, Will leaned against the door and rubbed his knuckles up and down his cheek where Hannibal had touched him as Margot paced.

"What were you  _ thinking _ Will?" She hissed. "Were you really so drunk as to turn stupid?"

"Not nearly drunk enough."

Margot stopped closer to him and set her hands to his face, erasing the ghost sensation of rough palms and soft fingers.

"Don't gamble with this, Will," she urged. "Not with your life."  _ Not with mine. _

Will swallowed, eyes hooded, and nodded. "I won't. I'm not feeling myself. I think I'll go to bed."

Margot's brows furrowed gently in sympathy before she nodded and leaned to kiss his forehead. "Rest well."

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Will watched him go with blatant longing, and then carefully opened the note under the table._
> 
> _'Meet me by the clock.'_
> 
> ...you wanna go to a real party?

Hannibal found Will again in the late afternoon. It had been harder than he’d expected, though he could not get the scent of sweet, scared Omega out of his nose. There were thousands of scents on the ship, and even for Hannibal, picking just one out of all of them had been a chore. 

Will wore less silk and lace for an afternoon walk about the ship, but his waist had been cinched in just as much beneath the waistcoat and white shirt, and he’d acquired an obscenely large heart-cut gem to wear tight around his throat in a mimicry of traditional Omega collars. Hannibal had thought they were going out of fashion, but perhaps the wealthy clung longer to such things. Will looked just as distressed and uncomfortable as he had the night before, eyeing Hannibal warily.

“Would you care for a walk around the deck?” Hannibal suggested, extending his arm to Will as he’d been taught. His chaperone- Margot, Hannibal recalled- looked pleasantly surprised. Will looked as though he thought the arm might burn him.

He took it, though, and walked with Hannibal, Margot trailing a close, but polite, distance behind them.

“I would like to pass on Mason’s gratitude,” Will said softly, “Because otherwise, you’d never receive it. He doesn’t think of such things, you see.”

“Such things as ‘other people,’ do you mean?”

Will stifled a small laugh. “Mason is… Mason is a unique individual. There are none quite like him, and this keeps him very busy. So, his gratitude. And my own,” he added, glancing away, a tint of red spreading across his cheeks.

"You're welcome, Will." Hannibal told him earnestly, ducking his head trying to catch his eye. Will expertly avoided him. For a time they were quiet, just walking in the sun past other well-dressed pairs and family groups. Will watched young children spin tops and walk dolls along the railing of the boat, imaginations fed full by the magnitude of the ship.

He wished he still had that innocence.

"It got too much," Will murmured after a while, not sure why he felt so comfortable being open with this man he barely knew. "The dinner, the clothing, the four different forks and which to use when. I wasn't born into this, I was dragged here, and no one asked me if I wanted it, not once."

Will licked his lips and shook his head. "I always imagined that privilege came with a certain world view. The ability to see and understand that the lowly don't have. But I realized last night that I could try to speak up, I could scream, if I wanted, and no one would see me as anything but a hysterical Omega complaining of things I couldn't possibly understand." His voice curled then, to an imitation of Mason's harsh tone. He sighed.

"I know I should be grateful. I'm much better off than I was before Mason found me. Poor little rich boy," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," Hannibal told him, setting a hand to Will's where it held to his arm. "Misery cares little for class and privilege."

“My father never had any plans to find me a match.” Will explained. “When he died, everyone was frantic about what to do with me. I was just the right age, you see, but without any prospective mates... 'How lucky', they all said, 'to have a rich man spot you and take interest'. And the places where orphaned Omegas gather, they don’t have enough money to be picky. I was sent off before I’d finished unpacking, and soon I’ll be bonded to Mason.”

“But you don’t love him,” Hannibal said gently, “I’d dare to suggest you don’t even  _ like _ him.”

Will snatched his arm away, wrapping both arms around himself and glowering down at his feet. “What, in all our conversation, led you to think that would be a welcome remark?”

“Times are changing,” Hannibal told him. “When I was in Paris, I saw more people bonding for love of someone, than just being moved together like chess pieces. 

“Well,” Will said shortly, “perhaps that’s how they do things in  _ Paris _ , but in London, Omegas are kept under an Alpha’s care and then matched to their own Alpha. There isn’t much  _ love _ involved, though I’m sure some eventually gain  _ some  _ fondness. There’s no need to be  _ cruel _ about it.”

“I wasn’t trying to be cruel, Will, merely to suggest-“

“Then don’t rub my face in it,” Will snapped. His eyes were wet, and he was radiating distress in waves. Hannibal wanted to draw him in like he had the night before, calm him with only his scent. 

“This was a terrible idea,” Will murmured to himself. “You can’t just come here looking and, and  _ smelling  _ like you do, and try to flip things upside down. I  _ know _ my fate, Hannibal, I know what awaits me in New York.”

Unconsciously, he lifted a hand to his throat and the gem that hung there. He looked as though he would like to rip it from his throat. 

Hannibal tilted his head, something like amusement colouring his features, and leaned closer. "And how is it that I smell?"

Will flushed deeply, glaring at Hannibal when he lifted his eyes again. Oh, his eyes were lovely too, another cruel twist of fate. Whiskey warm with just a hint of the red that defined all Alphas. Will breathed in, something he fooled himself into believing was unconscious, a shock response, rather than a deliberate way to soothe himself.

"Are you always so callous?" Will whispered, voice rougher. Hannibal shrugged, lackadaisical and lovely. "Well. In that case, thank you, Hannibal. That's what I wanted to do and I've done it." He held his hand out for Hannibal to take, which he did, with great amusement.

"You have," Hannibal agreed. "And you've been quite rude yourself."

Will looked taken aback. He forced himself to let go of Hannibal's hand, though he wanted to do anything else but that, and crossed his arms again.

"Then it's a good thing I'm leaving."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

Will flushed, feeling for the first time that he was being  _ flirted _ with rather than it being taken as a given that he would like every Alpha he encountered. He shook his head, catching a curl with his fingers to guide back behind his ear.

He watched Hannibal preening, enjoying how flustered Will was. Immediately, Will felt the need to prove he  _ wasn't _ flustered. His eyes sought over Hannibal's form for something to find fault in and landed on nothing but a battered satchel.

"What do you carry around in there?" He asked, aiming for haughty. "Gifts from all the people you've wooed?"

“It would be a lot lighter, in that case.” Hannibal lifted the strap from around his neck, holding it out for Will to inspect. 

Will took the bag warily, opening it to see a thick, heavy sketchbook, and a wrapped fabric that turned out to contain charcoals and various tools. “Do you fancy yourself an artist, then?” He asked, plucking the sketchbook from the bag and thrusting the bag back towards Hannibal. 

“Of a sort,” Hannibal said, guiding Will towards a bench so he could rifle through the pages properly. Some of them were loose, sketches scribbled onto whatever scrap of paper Hannibal had at hand, and Will was cautious as he looked. 

“These are actually very good,” Will admitted. It was an understatement. The figures in Hannibal’s drawings seemed to leap from the pages. As he looked, Will almost felt he could see them breathing. One figure was reoccurring, a young, pouting child, her hair sketched with a light hand to keep it fair. “Especially her, you’ve drawn her quite a few times.”

“My sister,” Hannibal explained, “the only one drawn from memory, as that is all I’ve left of her.”

“I’m sorry,” Will whispered. Hannibal offered him a smile. 

“It’s a pain that will never fade, but it was many years ago. It doesn’t ache quite so badly anymore.”

For a moment, they sat in solemn silence, as Will flipped through the next few pages. 

Figures sitting, standing, smoking, talking- an Alpha, sprawled across the bed, his cock growing hard against his stomach, knot beginning to form. Will slammed the book shut with a red-faced squeak. 

Hannibal laughed. “Yes, he was a particularly unruly model. He always wanted the drawings to have more eroticism than I’d intended. His Omega didn’t help, always flitting about to check on him. They were infatuated, could never stand to be more than a few feet apart from each other. I’ve drawn the Omega, too, here-“

He opened the book again, turning the pages until Will looked down at a delicate, slender man, cock small and soft, beaming at something just out of frame. 

Will ached. He knew what was coming, he’d felt the fever building, but knowing did not stop the inappropriate need he felt to touch and be touched in return, how easily a portrait could arouse heat and desire within him. 

"They must have loved each other very much."

"Still do, I imagine. This wasn't three months ago."

Will stared at him, then back at the drawing, the joy on the Omega's face, the slight mischief in his smile.

"How did you meet them?"

"We shared rooms in Paris," Hannibal replied, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. "They would joke that they fit together perfectly; one a man of leisure and one a man of pleasure."

"A man of -" Will's eyes widened and he handed the sketchbook back to a laughing Hannibal.

"I wish I could do that," Will said after a while, bringing a hand to his mouth and laughing a moment before shaking his head. "Not  _ that _ , but... travel as you do. No care in the world. No worry over money."

"You can."

Will snorted. "An unclaimed Omega? No. I haven't the luxury of being able to move freely like you. But I wish."

“There are places where certain laws are not so strictly followed,” Hannibal suggested, indicating his sketches again. “Places where what organs one may bear is irrelevant to the company one might keep.”

“But I’m not going to those places,” Will reminded him. “I go where I’m brought.” He sighed, looking out to the horizon. A notion occurred to him, one as vibrant and joyous as it was ridiculous. “Tell me what it would be like,” he demanded, “if we went to such places together. Or any places. Tell me of your favorites. Promise me we’ll go there, even if we only ever wander in conversation.”

Hannibal smiled, slowly, tucking his sketchbook into his bag. “We will,” he said, reaching for Will’s hand. “I’ll take you anywhere in the world you’d like to go.”

It seemed ridiculous, to be so thoroughly attached so quickly, but Hannibal had known since seeing Will on that railing, he could never walk away from him. That his scent seemed so perfectly made for Hannibal only sealed Hannibal’s fate; here was a man he would follow to the ends of the earth. Or the ends of a ship, at the very least.

“I can tell you of places I’ve been, and places I hope to be. I’ve not yet set foot in America, but I’ve long wanted to.”

“Then I’ll show you America, and you’ll show me France,” Will said, a smile stealing across his face. 

“Come,” Hannibal said, getting to his feet, “it is an imagining that requires movement.”

And so they walked, Hannibal gesturing off the boat at different intervals, pointing at one angle to indicate Lithuania, his birth place, and another angle to indicate France, where he would introduce Will to artists and musicians he’d never heard of, who were better than any he’d known until now. Will’s smile grew, his scent relaxed and sweetened with joy. He peppered Hannibal's stories with questions, of people he’d met and foods he’d tasted. He was more vibrant than Hannibal had ever seen him. 

As they walked, Hannibal noticed the way Will's voice changed. A curl of an accent that hadn't been there before,no longer so proper, a twang of a drawl that warmed Hannibal to hear.

More and more Will would reach out, too, brushing Hannibal's hand or leaning against him. The clothes that had so constricted Will earlier now made him look truly regal. He wasn't acting, he wasn't pretending, it was easy to breathe.

They came to rest with arms over the railing, looking out at the sea.

"I want to ride horses," Will was saying. "Out west somewhere where the horizon goes on and on forever. Stone and dust and sand as far as the eye can see."

"Can you ride?" Hannibal asked, amusement curling his tone. Will feigned shock.

"Of course!"

"They teach that in finishing school now?"

"I'll have you know," Will started, turning to rest his hip against the railing. "That I never attended."

Hannibal's laugh came sudden and bright, and Will grinned. No demure ducking of his head here, no deference to an Alpha. Open and honest and beautiful in it.

"Will."

He'd forgotten Margot was even there, and for a moment embarrassment warmed his cheeks. But then he considered what she had called his name for and found several Alphas from the dinner before making their way over, on their own walk.

He was supposed to know their names, he knew, out of politeness, but beyond Mr. Dimmond, he hadn’t bothered. He wasn’t permitted to speak to them unless directly asked something, anyway, so there seemed little point. 

“Gentleman,” Will said, with a polite little bow, head down, eyes on the ground. Deferential, as Margot had taught him. “Have you met Mister….” trailing off, he realized he hadn’t caught Hannibal’s surname. He glanced at him, faintly pink. 

“Just Hannibal, is fine,” Hannibal said, holding out his hand to shake. One shook it with probing curiosity, the second with thinly veiled disgust. Only Mr. Dimmond seemed to treat Hannibal as an equal, introducing himself with a firm handshake. 

“Hannibal will be joining us for dinner tonight,” Will added, relishing the startled looks. Margot nudged him; this was far more than Mason would have allowed either of them to speak without his guidance. But Mason wasn’t here. 

“Yes, of course,” said the disgruntled gentleman. “And we should all be on our way to dress for it. I’m certain Mason doesn’t want you two wandering the decks when you’re meant to be readying for dinner.”

Will bristled. He took orders from Mason only because he was required to. This man had no claim to him, and no right. 

But Hannibal placed a hand on his arm, gentle, soft, comforting. Will relaxed. “Of course,” Hannibal said. “Will, Margot, I'll see you shortly.”

They bid their goodbyes, Margot leading Will off to their rooms. Will couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder. 

He was most definitely in trouble. 

Hannibal, for his part, was heading for his own breed of trouble. He knew full well what men wore to such affairs, and nothing he’d packed would cut it. 

“You look distressed, my friend.” Two of the Alphas who’d recognized Will had disappeared, but Anthony Dimmond had lingered, smiling pleasantly. “Allow me to take a guess: your best suit is out at the cleaners.”

“Something like that."

Anthony nodded, crossing his arms as he sized Hannibal up. "Good thing I over packed by several tailcoats."

Hannibal snorted, a pleased sound as he looked the other over in turn. "Quite the turn of luck," he agreed. The man was curious, held himself like someone between dynamics. He reminded Hannibal of Paris.

"I wonder, though, how I'd return such a generous favor."

"I'm collecting karmic points," Anthony replied easily, tilting his head to get Hannibal to follow. "Though if you've an idea for repayment I'm always open to new currency."

Hannibal laughed, then, he had to, and followed the Alpha to his suite.

Will fiddled with his hands as he waited, Margot at his side. They'd mercifully only seen Mason briefly before they all retired to dress for dinner, and he had no patience to wait for a group to gather at the staircase. He believed he should be waited on and for,but should never do the waiting.

Several Alphas had passed them already, graciously taking Margot's hand to kiss her knuckles and offering a rather invasive once-over to Will.

"Don't fidget," Margot whispered to him, squeezing Will's arm reassuringly. "Shoulders back."

Will sighed and complied. Forcing his breathing to slow and his heart to ease its frantic rhythm. This was a terrible idea. Hannibal would be made fun of, and it would be Will's fault. He would be the butt of cruel jokes made by Mason and his lackeys and would never speak to Will again.

He bit his lip and glanced up at the staircase again. When he did, his mouth dropped open in a way that was far from becoming.

Hannibal descended with Anthony, whispering together. Both dressed in crisp tailcoats, pristine white shirts and silk cravats. Hannibal's hair had been combed back, just a few stray strands cascading over his forehead. And when he looked down and caught Will's eye, Will was certain he whimpered.

“Close your mouth!” Margot hissed. It snapped shut, presumably of its own accord, because Will was no longer in control of himself. 

He’d felt unreasonably warm all day, and now he felt hot and breathless, as though Margot had tied his corset just one tug too tight. 

Each man stopped to kiss Margot’s hand, and then, to Will’s bewilderment and delight, Hannibal did the same to him. His lips brushed gentle and hot against Will’s knuckles, so tender that Will was certain his heart stopped beating. 

Then he held out his arm, as he had earlier on the deck, and escorted Will into the dining hall.

Mason was already holding court, slightly flush from brandy and his own usual exuberance. His good humor did nothing to ease Will’s wariness; a happy Mason was no less dangerous than an angry one. 

“ _ William!”  _ He called when he saw them, his eyes narrowing. “My darling little  _ dove _ . Come have a seat  _ right _ here.” He patted the seat beside him with an eager grin. 

Mason’s nicknames for him could be excessive, but Will greatly preferred ‘dove’ to ‘bitch.’ He excused himself from Hannibal, and found, to his delight, that the man followed him to pull out his chair. Margot shot Will a look that he ignored. If Mason had noticed that another Alpha was doting on ‘his’ Omega, he would have made a fuss by now. 

Mason, for all his awful manners, and disgusting self-carriage mercifully didn't want Will to speak much. He would rant and joke, would inappropriately touch Will and laugh too loudly and all Will had to do was smile and on occasion make a sound of assent.

So he allowed himself to turn to Hannibal, to watch him, to share silent knowing glances when Mason said something thoroughly unacceptable. He watched Hannibal handle it with grace and found himself unable to look away from him.

_ Yes, thank you, steerage on this ship is quite comfortable. _

_ No, I am not of the Pennsylvania Lecters, but rather those of no title at all. _

_ I believe one cannot call a beverage champagne unless it came from the Champagne district in France. _

"It is incredibly refreshing to drink it in the evenings there, watching the sun set." Hannibal concluded, taking a sip from his glass. This seemed to silence a lot of the naysayers of earlier, and Will was delighted. Hannibal was well-traveled and knowledgeable, clever and poised.

He was the sun compared to Mason's filthy shadow.

Mason detested him, though that was perhaps because he drew so much attention away from Mason himself. As the shiny new toy at the table, everyone wanted to talk to Hannibal. He handled the attention with all the grace of one who was born to it, a grace Will envied. 

When the Alphas retired for brandy and cigars, Hannibal declined. “I’m afraid I’ve been out much too late already.”

Mason seemed pleased by the decision, though that did little to quash his ire from before. “Yes, yes,” he said, “run along back to where you  _ belong _ . Many thanks and all that.  _ Margot- _ “ he snapped at her, gaining her attention immediately, “-make sure Will neither drinks too much champagne nor is up too late. He’s  _ moody _ when you haven’t put him to bed  _ on time _ .”

“Of course,” she replied, while Will sat in stony silence. 

And then, Mason did something he had never yet done: bending low, he gripped Will tightly by the hair at his nape, until Will whimpered, and then soundly kissed Will’s parted lips. 

The kiss was possessive, probing, but also mercifully brief. Mason was gone before Will could properly process what had just happened, petting Will’s curls back into place and excusing himself with the rest of the Alphas. All but Hannibal, whose eyes Will did not dare meet. He felt mortified, and disgusted. He wanted to rinse his mouth out for a good hour. A public kiss was scandalous enough, let alone the over the top  _ claim _ Mason had just laid on him. 

“Must you go so soon, Hannibal?” Margot asked. Will’s head shot up, his eyes pleading. After such an event, he could not bear to see Hannibal go. 

“I’m afraid I must,” Hannibal said, circling the table to press another kiss to each of their hands. A folded piece of paper was pressed between Will’s fingers. “Thank you, Will, for a wonderful evening.”

Will watched him go with blatant longing, and then carefully opened the note under the table. 

_ Meet me by the clock.  _

“I think I’ll retire too,” Will said, stretching. “It’s been such a night. No, don’t worry,” he said, when Margot began to get to her feet. “Stay and enjoy dessert and champagne with the ladies. I’m only going up a floor to bed, surely I can be unescorted for two minutes.”

"Can you?" Margot asked, but her smile softened the chastisement. Will squeezed her hand as he walked by, a silent promise not to put her or his safety in jeopardy. He lingered in the lobby, until he was certain that the cigars and brandy had fully immersed the Alphas, before heading to the bottom of the stairs.

He let himself take Hannibal in before he took the stairs up to him, smiling too wide when Hannibal narrowed his eyes at him.

"Would you like to go to a real party?"

"God, yes," he sighed.

Steerage was just as Will had remembered it when he and his father had come over to England. He had to agree with Hannibal that Titanic offered more genuine comforts than Will's ship had.

Hannibal led him through narrow corridors following the sounds of boisterous music until they came upon what passed as a cafeteria during the day. Now it was filled with people, packed tight enough to barely be able to move.

Musicians held court on top of a wooden table, playing fiddle, bagpipes, drums, spoons… Will laughed, delighted, and followed Hannibal where he pulled him, working loose his cravat as he did. He accepted a beer and gratefully chugged it, not stopping for breath until the glass was empty and foam coated his top lip, raising a brow at Hannibal's look of surprise.

"What?"

"Nothing," Hannibal replied, in a tone that suggested quite the opposite.

“We do have  _ beer _ , where I come from,” Will teased. 

There was another beer, and another, and then somehow, Will was following Hannibal onto the wooden platform that served as a dance floor. 

“I don’t know how to dance!” Will shouted over the noise. 

“I only know how to waltz, so I’d say we’re evenly matched.”

Hannibal’s hand found his, the other sliding around to Will’s lower back, tugging him close until there was barely a breath between them. And then they moved, spinning and twisting about, Will laughing like he hadn’t laughed in years. 

There were other Omegas about, women as well, all joining in on dance and drink. Will was dizzy with freedom, with possibility. When they finally came to a halt, breathless and damp with sweat, Will clung. “Don’t let go,” he begged.

Hannibal pressed their cheeks together. “Never,” he promised. 

Somehow, they made it off the stage and into a quiet corner, without ever having to untangle. Hannibal backed Will into it, his own body a barrier between Will and the rest of the party. His arms rested on the wall beside Will’s head, and he leaned in to nuzzle their noses together. 

“You looked so distraught tonight,” he murmured. “I wanted to take you away.”

“I wish you had,” Will whispered back. “He’s never touched me like that before. I can’t stand to have him do it again.”

Hannibal nosed his way down the side of Will’s jaw, until he could tug the cravat aside and press his face right to Will’s scent glands, breathing him in. Will shuddered, his eyes slipping closed. 

“This is a dreadful thing,” Hannibal whispered, tugging at the necklace Mason had collared him with. “It taints your scent with metal.”

“God, I hate it. Heavy and gaudy. I’d pitch it into the sea, given the chance.” 

Hannibal’s teeth closed around the chain, tugging once, lightly, his lips brushing Will’s throat. Will shuddered, whining softly. 

“Every time you do that, something in me aches,” Hannibal told him. “I always want to fix what’s gone wrong. 

“Then do it,” Will challenged. Hannibal pulled back to meet his eyes, both of them hazy with drink and arousal. His hands cupped Will’s face, so gentle and careful as he slotted their mouths together. 

This time when Will whined, Hannibal swallowed the sound and pressed closer, pushing their bodies together from hip to chest. Will's arms slid over Hannibal's shoulders and held him close, opening his mouth to Hannibal's probing tongue.

"Don't stop," Will begged when they broke to breathe. "Don't ever stop doing that."

Hannibal never wanted to. He stroked Wills hair from his face and kissed him again, just as claiming as Mason's kiss had been but Will  _ responded _ to this, arching up against him, pushing up to his toes to press nearer.

He had been betrothed before Paris. He'd been prepared to take a mate and settle down before the city opened his eyes and his mind. His uncle had called Hannibal wild, had called him callous and low-born and not worthy of his time.

The betrothal had been broken. Hannibal relished his freedom.

But kissing Will now felt like freedom more than his chosen poverty ever had. Kissing Will now, breathing him in, Hannibal knew he could never let him go.

He was prepared to do anything. To write his uncle from America and beg forgiveness, to step in line, to earn back his inheritance if it meant he could have Will at his side always.

When the kiss broke, Will’s eyes were glassy, his face flushed. Hannibal pressed a kiss to his forehead and found him alarmingly warm. 

“You’ve got a fever, sweetling,” he murmured. Will shook his head, cheeks burning darker. 

“Worse,” he mumbled, and once Hannibal understood, he flinched. 

“He brought you into a ship in such a condition?” He asked, outraged. “There’s too much to do, between customs and checks, he’d either have to abandon you or have you wandering out in public during the thick of it.”

Will had been trying not to think about it. He ducked his head, only to find Hannibal’s fingers beneath his chin, lifting him back up to tuck his face into Hannibal’s perfect scent. 

“I’m sorry,” Hannibal said. “I’m not angry at  _ you _ .”

“If I’m lucky, we’ll make it off the boat first.”

Hannibal decided not to point out that he was already burning up. It was unlikely to do any good. “Come find me,” he murmured. “If it happens before we dock. Come find me. Let me take care of you. There needn’t be a bond if you don’t want one, but you shouldn’t be trapped with someone who distresses you so badly.”

“Mason would  _ kill _ me.”

“Not if he couldn’t find you. Not if you got off with me.”

Will drew in a startled breath. He wanted, he wanted more than  _ anything _ . But Hannibal underestimated Mason. People often did. 

He straightened up, pulling himself reluctantly from Hannibal's throat. “I… I should get to bed,” he whispered. 

"Come to bed with me."

"Please," Will laughed. "Please don't… because if you ask again I'll say yes."

Hannibal didn't, he could see the pain he was causing just mentioning an opportunity to escape. He would do anything, everything in his power to protect Will, but in such an enclosed space, in such close quarters with class divisions so blatant and cruel…

Instead he kissed Will again, achingly sweet, intimate enough to make Will shiver and summon a whine from the depths of his throat.

"Go," Hannibal told him, stroking Will's hair. "Get your rest, come find me."

Will shook his head, laughing even as he held on to Hannibal's hands where they framed his face. Then he bit his lip and dropped them to slip his cravat free. He folded it, eyes up to meet Hannibal's, and tucked it into the pocket of his suit.

"Good night, Hannibal," he whispered. "Thank you for a wonderful evening."

And then he slipped free.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Draw me," Will said, grinning up at him. "As a man of leisure. Or pleasure. I'll leave that up to you."_

Mason came to Will while he was reading, alone in his room. Will slotted himself in the doorway, carefully blocking access to the room itself. 

Mason, thankfully, did not try to force his way inside. Instead, he gave Will a smile- a  _ smile- _ and held out his arm. 

“Come to tea with me? We have a  _ private _ little sun room on the upper deck.”

“Margot was feeling sea sick,” Will said, shaking his head, “she went to lie down.”

Mason’s smile twitched. Will held his breath. 

“Well, we wouldn’t want to disturb Margot’s rest, would we? But it’s just tea, Will, and the sun room is surrounded by nice, clear windows. Besides,” he added, with a snort more typical of his normal attitude, “it’s not like your virtue needs defending from  _ me _ .”

And on that ominous note, Will found himself hustled along for tea. 

The sunroom  _ was  _ nice, bright and cheerful, with flowers on the table. Mason sat between Will and the door. 

“You know, _Will_ ,” he said, stirring sugar into his tea, “I feel I know you _so_ _well_ already, before we’ve even _bonded_. For example, I could pick out your scent in a crowded room. On _most_ days.”

Will sipped his own tea carefully, no sugar, no milk. He'd rather have had something cold to soothe away the warmth that built up from within him like a pyre but said nothing on the matter.

"It speaks to our compatibility, so I've been told," Will replied softly. Mason nodded, an exaggerated and entirely unnatural motion.

"Yes, yes, quite. Now, see, Will, usually you have a rather nice," he gestured absently, seeking the word. "Sweet I suppose is an acceptable term.  _ Sweet _ aroma. But today you smell somewhat  _ overripe. _ "

Will bit his lip, running his tongue softly against the back of his teeth over and over.

"Like a peach left in the sun to  _ rot _ . That sort of smell. And it got me  _ thinking _ , because I'm a  _ thinker _ , Will, despite what some say. I'm a  _ thinker _ as well as a  _ doer _ , which is what gives me an edge over my competitors. It got me  _ thinking _ that something must have  _ tainted _ you."

Will kept his hands steady. He’d washed carefully, scrubbed at every place Hannibal had touched until it was pink, splashed himself with some of Margot’s perfume, and none of it,  _ none of it _ , had been enough. 

“Mason,” he said, tilting his head to bare his neck. Placating. Submissive. “Mason, I don’t know what-“

“ _ Don’t  _ play dumb with  _ me.” _ Mason slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the china. “I know when I’m being  _ lied _ to,  _ dearest.” _

Heart pounding, Will set his tea cup down. “Mason, please. There’s nothing to be upset about. You’re my Alpha-“ the words tasted sour on his tongue, but they didn’t linger long before Mason was shouting again. 

“Don’t  _ lie _ to me,” he hissed, shoving the entire table to the side to get to Will faster. Delicate chinaware shattered on the floor, and Will cowered back in his seat as Mason gripped one of his arms. 

“You’re hurting me-“

“As is my  _ right _ . Because I  _ am _ your Alpha.  _ Me _ . Not some  _ flea-bitten _ mutt you spread your legs for.” His grip tightened, his eyes tinted red with his outrage. Will bared his throat, whimpering pleadingly. It did nothing to soothe Mason. The stench of him was overpowering, acrid Alpha fury that made Will nauseous. 

“In a few days time, Will, I’ll have my teeth in your throat and my  _ seed _ in your belly. If you  _ please _ me, you can have your  _ allowance _ and your  _ rooms _ and  _ Margot _ to do as you please when you aren’t  _ gagging _ for it. Test me again, and I’ll strap you down to a breeding bench and you can  _ live  _ there for all I care. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Mason,” Will whispered. Mason shook him roughly. 

“What was that?”

“Yes, Alpha!” Will yelped, panicked. 

"Good boy," Mason told him, patting Will's face with a gentleness that terrified him. "Now call a maid to clean this mess up. It's your fault it came to this."

"I'm sorry, Alpha," Will breathed, eyes wide, lips parted and skin presented for Mason's teeth. The man watched him a moment further before pulling back, releasing Will's arm where the ghosts of his fingers lingered pale and cold.

Mason left without a word, kicking aside a silver jug as he did, spilling milk in an arc over the floor. Will sat, shaking, toes to the floor where he'd instinctively tried to draw up his knees. When a maid came on her own, drawn to the ruckus, Will whimpered.

"I'm sorry -"

"It's quite alright, sir,"

"No, no, this is my fault, I should have -"

"Sir," the maid smiled kindly at him, eyes green as the sea. "It's alright."

But it wasn't. It wasn't, because Mason's grip was starting to bruise Will's arm. It wasn't, because he couldn't see Hannibal again and it killed him. It wasn't, because people like Will never got a happy ending. That was just his lot in life.

Will decided to take a walk without Margot, the poor thing was still down in their rooms fighting off nausea and Will couldn't be confined in that moment, he just couldn't.

He walked unseeing past other passengers, aware enough to avoid colliding with anyone but otherwise lost in his own head. He almost wished he'd let go that first night, had not met Hannibal at all, had just let his sorry life end and save everyone grief.

Someone touched his shoulder and Will turned in a panic, hand to his chest until he saw who it was.

"Hannibal -"

"Come with me."

"No. No! Hannibal we can't, we -"

But he was already being dragged into an empty unused ballroom, Hannibal's smell overwhelming in the best possible way.

Hannibal crowded him against the door, nuzzling at his cheek, spreading his scent thoroughly. Will whimpered, and he stopped, pulling back to look at him. He drew in a long breath through his nose, frowning. 

“You’re distressed.”

“You can’t just  _ smell me _ -“

“Will.”

Unlike Mason, when Hannibal said his name, it was thick with concern. He reached to pull Will in, to give Will lungfuls of his calming scent. Will jerked away, terror gripping him. 

He was not stronger than Mason. He was not bigger than Mason. He had never been allowed to be anything other than delicate, and if Mason attempted to overpower him, it would take very little. 

“Will!”

Will straightened up, calling on everything Margot had ever taught him. “Mr. Lecter,” he said, flinching at the baffled look Hannibal gave him, “while I  _ appreciate  _ everything you’ve done for me, this must be the last time we meet.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed. “He’s put his words in your mouth.”

Will blinked, then shook his head. “I’m  _ Mason Verger’s  _ Omega. I need to act like it.”

“I tried to come find you this morning,” Hannibal said, stepping towards Will again. “Mason had a man called Cordell palm me a twenty and tell me much the same as you.”

“I  _ love _ Mason,” Will tried, a last ditch effort. The look that crossed Hannibal’s face didn’t look hurt. It looked concerned. 

“Will,” he said softly, “what has he said to you to make you so scared?”

“That’s none of your business,” Will snapped. “And I’m  _ not  _ scared.”

Hannibal watched him a moment longer, didn't try to get into Will's space, didn't try to pull him in. He watched Will's eyes scream the words his mouth refused to, watched his panic settle like a veil over him.

When he reached out, it was slowly, and when he set a hand to Will's cheek the Omega leaned into it with a gasp, unable to pull away.

"If you stay with him, you will wither," Hannibal spoke quietly. "Everything you are, every beautiful thing, will be stifled by his madness. I would not see you succumb to that."

Will sobbed and pressed his hand to the back of Hannibal's, turning his face just enough to kiss his fingers.

"Then you will not see me at all," he whispered. "Excuse me. Don't try to find me again."

Will stepped away before he could cry, before he could speak his mind, and rushed out the door. He made it to the safety of the lifeboats, hidden from view between two of them, before he sank to his knees and wept.

Hannibal stood silent, unmoving, Will's words ringing in his ears and his instincts clawing at his skull to  _ follow _ and  _ protect _ and  _ soothe _ . He pulled Will's cravat from his pocket and brought it to his lips, breathing in the heady warmth of him.

He would respect Will's wishes, he owed him that. But a part of him would break away and disembark the ship with Will Graham.

* * *

Will bathed until he was red and his skin ached from the scrubbing. He had no idea how he would explain the scent to Mason, what he would do to calm his rage. 

Then he tried to sleep. In sleep, he could escape his longing, his ache. But sleep would not come to him, and the ache grew and grew until Will finally recognized it for what it was. 

Heat. 

Just the start, just the very beginning of it, but as he laid there in his bed, he felt the first tell-tale trickle of slick. 

Mason would be back soon. Mason would come and sate his lust in Will, and in doing so, would chase away the ache. Then he would sink his teeth in Will and fill him until Will gave him dozens of children, and Will would  _ rot _ in his rooms. 

No. 

No no no no  _ no.  _

* * *

Hannibal stood at the very front of the ship, leaning over the rail to watch the sunset color the waves. He could not bear to lower himself back into the bowels of the ship, not now. He pressed Will’s cravat to his face, tempted to toss it into the ocean, tempted to hang onto it until he died of old age. 

“Hannibal?”

Hannibal spun around. Will had dressed as though for dinner, in a soft silk shirt and a tight waistcoat, his hair neatly combed. He looked beautiful. He smelled… he  _ smelled _ …

“You’re in heat,” he said, voice cracking. 

Will smiled shyly. “Nearly there. I changed my mind. You said to come find you when it came. Is that… is that still alright?”

Hannibal swallowed, nodding. Will's smile was radiant and he ducked his head a moment before stepping closer and taking Hannibal's hand.

"Come with me."

While Will was not at dinner, everyone else was. Or, Will amended, the Alphas were at brandy and cigars. Margot…

"Margot is poorly, there's a door between us for modesty." Will closed the door to the corridor and tugged a small sofa against the door between him and Margot. Then he turned to Hannibal properly.

"I'd like to ask you for something."

"Anything." Hannibal could barely breathe, Will's scent was overpowering, sweet as ambrosia. He watched as the tempting, beautiful man stepped closer and set his palm to Hannibal's chest.

"Draw me," Will said, grinning up at him. "As a man of leisure. Or pleasure. I'll leave that up to you. And then…"

*Then?"

Will's smile softened a little and he kept his eyes on Hannibal's as he worked loose his cravat, the buttons on his shirt, and tilted his head.

"Then," he told Hannibal, "I want you to help me through my heat. I want you to knot me, and fill me, and claim me… and take me with you, when we dock in New York."

Hannibal reached for him, pulling him close to steal a kiss, a kiss that soon devolved into pure need. Will finally had to shove him away, panting. 

“No,” he said. “Draw me first. Before I can’t sit for it any more.” 

He led Hannibal to a seat, draped a blanket over the remaining couch to protect the upholstery, and ducked behind a standing screen to undress. With every article of clothing he tossed over the screen, his scent grew stronger, flooding the room until Hannibal’s mouth watered. 

He came out in a robe, soft and deep navy. He looked nervous, but the smile hadn’t left his face. 

“I thought I’d leave this on,” he said, fingering the gem that hung from his collar. “Only this. Call it a statement.”

The collar had angered Hannibal when he first saw it, but when Will dropped the robe, he found it became impossibly lovely, just by its presence on  _ Will.  _

Will was slender, pale, his little cock half hard against his thigh. There was a hint of slick shining on his thighs, just barely visible, but Hannibal knew it would soon be a flood. 

There were bruises on his arm, dark shadows in the shape of fingerprints. Will caught him staring and shook his head. “He won’t get another chance,” he promised. 

“He should not have been given the first one,” Hannibal growled. “If he comes near you again, Will, I’m not sure I can hold myself back.”

Will smiled, settling himself onto the couch. “Don’t think about him,” he said softly, “there’s no room for him here.”

Will laid himself out, one hand curled up around his face, another draped over his head. “Is this alright?”

“You’re perfect,” Hannibal told him. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Will licked his lips and settled his expression to something neutral as Hannibal made himself comfortable on a chair across from him, flipping to a clean page in his sketchbook and selecting a long stick of lead to work with.

Soon the sound of cross hatching and shading was the only thing above their breathing. Will's was quickening, Hannibal's remained stoically slow. He drew like a man hypnotized, just his hand and his eyes moving. He cared little for the hair that fell over his eyes, for the sweat gathering at his brow, for his own need growing hotter with every moment Will's heat drew closer.

As Will's likeness appeared on paper, Hannibal had to resist the urge to scrap it, to perfect it, to use all his tools to worship this man in art.

"Will," he murmured, fingertips dark from shading. The Omega licked his lips and whined gently. "Sweetling, you're very close."

"Are you finished?"

Hannibal puffed a breath from the corner of his mouth, shifting the locks of hair from his brow. He nodded, uncrossing his legs and returning his lead to the folded case with his other tools. As Will slipped from the couch and padded over, arms around himself to keep himself together, for just a moment longer, Hannibal turned the page to him.

"Oh," Will's eyes glinted gold, his mouth a beautiful 'o' of surprise. "Hannibal…"

He had never considered himself beautiful. Never believed it beyond the vulgar calls on the streets. But now…

"You made me look happy," he whispered.

“I drew you how I see you,” Hannibal told him. He tilted his head up, tugging Will down to graze his lips over Will’s jaw. “You must be aching. Don’t deny yourself any longer.”

Will hummed, shivering. “It can’t be here. Mason will hear. He can’t know until it’s too late to undo it.”

That made things more difficult, but Hannibal was nothing if not innovative. “Anthony,” he said. “Mr. Dimmond has a whole suite of rooms, and I can compensate his assistance if I must.”

“How-“

“I’ll take care of it, sweetling. Get your things.” It would mean groveling to his uncle, but perhaps, once he was “properly” bonded, his uncle would look more fondly upon him. 

Will dressed in as little as possible without being indecent; shirt, slacks, shoes. Not proper Omega fashion, but not scandalous. His fingers lingered over the collar, an idea coming to life. 

“Let me have the drawing,” he said, undoing the clasp. 

_ Now you can keep both of us in your safe, dearest.  _ Will tucked the note, the drawing, and the collar into the safe in the sitting room, just in time for there to be a knock at the door. 

“Will!” Came Mason’s voice, sharp and angry. “You weren’t at dinner.”

Will caught a giggle behind his hand before it could slip out the door and be heard. He closed the safe and grabbed Hannibal's hand.

"Margot's room," Will mouthed, stifling another laugh against Hannibal's shoulder as they moved soundlessly to it. Hannibal moved the couch, opened the door and tucked Will against him to push him through first. He just managed to close the door as the one from the corridor swung open.

"Will!"

"We have to go," Will laughed, giddy and delirious from his heat and Hannibal's smell. Margot was in her bedroom, and they snuck through the sitting room to the main door and out into the corridor.

"No, we have to go, we have to go  _ now _ Hannibal," Will told him, clinging to his arm. "I need you,  _ right now _ -"

The door to Will's room slammed open and Will gasped. "Oh shit,  _ run! _ "

Hannibal’s hand clasped his own, warm and sure. They bolted down the hall, ducking into an elevator, Mason calling Will from just around the corner. Hannibal slammed the gate shut, nearly catching the poor bellhop’s fingers in it. Mason was upon them just as they began to descend, reeking of anger. Will looked up at him, face flush, smile broad, smelling so much of heat that the bellhop couldn’t even look at him. 

“When I get my  _ hands _ on you, little  _ bitch… _ ”

Just before they were out of sight, Will flipped him off, and then burst into hysterical giggles. 

“Oh my god,” he said, as Hannibal ushered him from the elevator and down the corridor. “Did you see his face? I’ve never  _ dared _ before!”

“You certainly surprised him," Hannibal said, stifling a laugh of his own. Will looked up at him, beaming, but then an aching wave of need pulled through him, cramping low in his belly. 

“Hannibal!”

Hannibal looked alarmed. “It’s alright, Will, we’re nearly there.”

But as they turned the corner, there was Mason, stumbling out of the stairway. Will wobbled and went pale, terrified nausea overtaking him. Hannibal grabbed for his wrist again. 

“Run, Will!”

Down the hall, down the stairs. Through crowds of strangers. Dodging through the 3rd class hallways. When Hannibal ushered Will through the  _ engine rooms _ , of all places, dodging flares and complaints from the crew members, Will burst into giggles once more. 

It was ridiculous, it was all so ridiculous. He was running as fast as he could to escape a punishment that would no doubt be brutal… and he’d never felt more free in his life. 

They stopped for breath in the cargo hold, Hannibal securing the door behind them and peering through the window. “I don’t think he’s managed to follow us,” he murmured. “Are you alright, Will?”

“No,” Will moaned. When Hannibal turned, Will dropped, collapsing to his knees with his arms over his stomach. He peered up at Hannibal pleadingly, eyes entirely gold. “Hannibal, Alpha, I  _ need _ you.”

Hannibal bent and scooped him up, holding Will close to let him nuzzle his throat, cling with sweaty fingers to his shirt. They needed something, somewhere safe for Will to lay and for Hannibal to soothe him.

The hold was filled with expensive, useless things, but Hannibal soon found a suitable albeit unconventional solution.

The car was grander than anything Hannibal had ever driven or ridden in, and he opened the back door to slip Will onto the back seat, climbing in after him and shutting the door.

"Will -"

The Omega's lips were on his, the taste of him exquisite and excruciating at once. Hannibal tugged Will close, letting him straddle his thighs as Hannibal's hands sought beneath his shirt, at the waist of his pants, slipping between his cheeks where Will's slick soaked his palm.

"Remarkable boy…"

"Hannibal please -" Will groaned, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. "Fill me, fuck me,  _ breed me _ …"

Hannibal’s breath caught. It was, of course, the expected result of a heat, but to hear it laid out so plainly…

He stripped Will of his things easily, Will’s own hands fumbling, more of a hindrance than a help. He laid Will out on his own shirt, protecting the car as much as he could, though there was little that could be done. 

Will’s thighs spread as much as the back seat would allow, hands grasping at Hannibal, dragging him down until he could wrap his legs around his hips. “Please,” he begged, rocking up against Hannibal, moaning at the feel of him, hard and hot and  _ big _ . 

“Have you?” Hannibal whispered. Will shook his head, gasping when Hannibal settled more firmly over him. “It might hurt a little,” Hannibal said, “but I’ll do my best to take care of you.”

“I trust you,” Will whispered back. 

Hannibal reached between them, guiding himself towards Will’s slick and ready entrance. Will’s breath stuttered as the head caught and began to ease in, his nails digging into Hannibal's shoulders as he bit his lip. 

“Relax.” Hannibal tucked his face into Will’s shoulder, mouthing at the place a claiming bite would go. “It will fit. You just need to open up and let me in, sweetling.”

Will made a soft little noise and clung on, one knee drawing up high against the back of the leather seat, one foot dropping to the floor in his attempt to spread wider. He’d imagined, naive and young as he once was, that his first time would be on his knees, presenting for his Alpha in bed. He’d imagined that it would be loving and intimate, that his heat would pass in a blur of pleasure, that he would be held and soothed and comforted.

He had never imagined Hannibal.

He had never imagined losing himself to another so entirely as this, in the middle of the Atlantic, destined for the bed of another man.

He laughed, then, helpless, and gasped when Hannibal pushed in deeper. Will’s hands were everywhere, in Hannibal’s hair, down his back, over his arms, leaving marks in their wake. He wrapped his legs around him when he started a rhythm, deep and deliberate, almost rough as he claimed Will properly.

God it felt good.

It felt  _ right _ .

“Hannibal -” Will dropped his hands back above his head, nails catching on the leather interior, fingers sliding slippery over the glass of the window. “Harder, please -”

Hannibal cursed, something in a language Will didn’t know, and caught a hand in his hair to tilt Will’s head up to kiss him. Will surged up desperately, opening his mouth for Hannibal, his body. 

Hannibal was everywhere, over and inside him, rocking into him to fill every aching space. Will felt pressure as his knot began to build, an insistent stretch that would soon be inside him. 

“Hannibal!” Will gasped. “I can’t!”

“You can.” Hannibal's hands were gentle, petting Will’s curls back, trailing over his chest. Will was sensitive everywhere, whining and shuddering at each little touch. “Just a bit more, Will, just a bit. Everything will feel so much better.”

Will knew he was right. It would feel perfect, it  _ had _ to feel perfect. Because it was Hannibal, and Hannibal had filled all of his senses from the moment they’d met. “Bite me,” Will demanded, rocking his hips towards Hannibal’s. “Alpha,  _ bite me _ .”

Hannibal struggled for rationality, for any semblance of thought when Will was stretching wider to accept his knot. “Will, are you sure-“

“Alpha!” Will whined, insistent as he dragged Hannibal down against him. 

Hannibal growled, a low and possessive sound, and felt his knot breach, felt Will squeeze around him, impossibly hot, impossibly tight, before setting his teeth to Will’s throat and claiming him.

Will cried out, a keening, trilling little noise that went straight to Hannibal’s cock, that had him pulsing hot and quick into Will’s trembling form as his Omega -  _ his _ \- reached for him, fingers through Hannibal’s sweaty hair as he licked over the bloody marks he’d left. Will shifted, just a little, and shuddered as his own orgasm moved through him like a storm, arching his back and slicking their stomachs. He rocked against Hannibal lazily, gentle undulations as he lay back lax against the leather seat and let his eyes close.

He could feel Hannibal’s knot thick and heavy within him, could feel his cock hard, still, filling him up.

Mason couldn’t have him now. Someone of his status would not breed a  _ sullied _ Omega, and good riddance. Will never needed the money, he never needed the riches or the name. He’d only ever wanted freedom. And Hannibal was freedom.

“Hannibal,” he sighed, sleepy, smile warm across his face. “ _ Alpha _ …”

Hannibal draped himself over Will, petting his hair back, planting soft kisses over his jaw, his cheeks, the corners of his eyes. “Will,” he said in response, “my sweetling, my sweet Omega. Luck has never smiled so kindly on me before.”

Will’s gaze was hazy, but fond. He melted so easily under Hannibal’s affections, turning his head to be kissed, to have blood licked up from his throat. “In three days we’ll be in New York,” he whispered. “Do you think we can both fit in your bunk until then?”

“I’ll beg Mr. Dimmond to allow us to intrude on his kindness,” Hannibal promised, “and if he refuses, I’ll sleep on the floor until you need me and be the envy of my roommates.”

Will sighed happily. He pulled a face when Hannibal's knot deflated and Hannibal pulled out, but Hannibal soothed him with more sweet little kisses over his throat and shoulders. 

“Better now? Can you move for a bit?”

Will nodded sleepily. “If it’s anything like my last, we have about half an hour before I need you again.”

“Plenty of time to get settled,” Hannibal said, reaching for his clothes. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You jump, I jump, remember?" Will told him, clinging to his shirt and turning his face against Hannibal's throat. "Boat or no boat, Hannibal, come what may I'm never leaving your side again."_

They cleaned up as best they could, with limited resources, and Will took Hannibal’s hand when he offered it to follow him to the door they’d come in from. Beyond, there was no sign of Mason, no sign of anyone, and Hannibal shouldered the door open before guiding Will through.

They stuck to the service corridors, stayed below second class as much as they could before they absolutely needed to head to first to find Anthony Dimmond.

Will felt incredible. He felt sated and giddy, he held Hannibal’s hand like a teenager in love and couldn’t stop smiling. Once in a while he’d tug Hannibal to him and kiss him hungrily, until their smiles split too wide for their kisses to hold.

They were in the elevator when it happened, a shudder so harsh it shook them to the core, made the ship tremble. Lights flickered, the elevator swung on its wires, and a roar like a creature from the deep filled their ears.

And then it was over, as suddenly as it had started.

“Jesus,” Will whispered, looking to the wide-eyed boy controlling the lift. “What was that?”

“I’m - I don’t know, sir, but I could find out -”

“The ship’s stopped,” Hannibal pointed out gently, squeezing Will’s hand a little. He turned to the boy. “Can you take us up or are we stuck?”

“Still in working order, sir, I’ll have you to your floor in just a moment.”

“Thank you.”

Will looked to his Alpha, eyes searching his face as Hannibal kept his own straight ahead once the lift started to move again. He reached out to touch Hannibal’s chest, gently stroking over it through his shirt until he sighed and turned to Will again.

“Something’s not right,” he murmured as the elevator stopped and they were let out onto their floor.

They met Anthony just as he was hurrying into his own door. He stopped in the hallway, staring at them, his nose wrinkling up. 

“Well, you are just ripe for the picking, aren’t you?”

Will glanced around nervously. The hallway was starting to fill with confused passengers, and though there was still a corner or two between them and Mason, they were on the same floor. “Can we have this discussion inside?”

“Yes, yes of course,” Anthony said, ushering them into the room. When the door was shut, he sighed. ”I’d congratulate you, my friends, but I’m afraid your timing is terrible. The Titanic has hit an iceberg.”

They both stiffened, thinking back to the moment in the elevator. “You’re joking,” Hannibal said flatly. 

“Saw it with my own eyes. Now, where did she put them?” He began rifling through closets, tossing things onto the floor. “There should be a few life vests in every room, you would think.”

“Mr. Dimmond,” Will said haltingly, “We’ve had dinner with the ship’s designer. It’s meant to be unsinkable, isn’t it?”

“In a direct collision, yes,” Anthony said, tossing suits carelessly to the floor, “but I watched it scrape all along the side. I don’t trust any amount of sealed doors to help that big a scrape, nor any man who claims he’s invented perfection. Aha!”

He pulled a flat white life vest from the closet, frowning. “I always like to have one on hand when I travel, but just the one.”

He and Hannibal had an entirely wordless discussion, before Will found himself shoved towards Anthony.

“Mr. Dimmond,” Will said, as Anthony shoved the vest on over Will’s shirt, “I’ve done the math. There aren’t enough lifeboats for the ship’s capacity.”

“Which is why you will be at the front of the line if they start launching,” Hannibal said, “while Mr. Dimmond and I fetch our own life vests from a crew member. They’ll send women, Omegas, and children first, they always do. You’ll be perfectly safe, Will.”

But Will had paled, completely ignoring the two men as he turned to look at the door. “Margot,” he said, “she won’t know. And when he finds out, Mason will never put her on a boat without him.”

Before either man could say another word, he was running, shoving past a maid bearing life vests at the door. 

The pleasure that had so warmed Will on their way up to Anthony's rooms now coiled into panic. He thought back to the dinner with Mr. Ismay, with Mr. Andrews… how the chief engineer that told Will quietly as they'd been seated together that some people had thought the deck would be too cluttered when he suggested adding another row of lifeboats.

There would not be enough.

There would not be enough by half.

From Mason's ranting and Ismay's bragging Will knew there were at least two thousand passengers on the Titanic, that was saying nothing of the staff.

He slammed into the door to his own rooms and cursed, moving to the next one to open the door wide to Margot's suite.

"Margot!"

"Will!" She looked exhausted, pale from feeling so unwell, bags under her eyes. Yet she still carried herself like a lady. She caught Will's upper arms before embracing him. "I was worried sick. Mason threw a fit, said you'd run off with -"

"It doesn't matter," Will said, holding her shoulders. "Nothing matters right now, Margot, the ship is sinking."

Margot blinked. "What?"

"You felt that shudder? Just before the ship stopped?"

"Yes, but… the maid said it was a malfunctioning engine,"

"We hit an iceberg. We hit it side on. Mr. Dimmond was on the deck, he saw it -"

"There are contingencies for that -"

"Not for something this size. Margot  _ please _ listen to me. We have to get up on deck. We have to get to a lifeboat before they run out - and they will run out. And we have to go before Mason -"

“Before Mason  _ what?” _ Came the growl. Will had had his back to the door separating his rooms from Margot’s, and now Mason shoved through, his fingers twisting cruelly through Will’s hair. 

“ _ What _ have you done, little  _ bitch?” _ Mason asked, yanking Will’s head to the side and tugging up his collar to expose his fresh bond mark. Margot gasped, but Mason only laughed. “Did you think this would help you?”

“I’m not yours!” Will yelped, hands tugging frantically at Mason’s wrist. “I’m Hannibal’s, you can’t bond me!”

“But I can still  _ breed _ you,” Mason hissed. “It will be a bit more  _ difficult _ , now, but it  _ can _ be done. You’re about to see what it feels like to be truly  _ trapped _ , bitch.”

“Mason,” Margot whispered, “the ship-“

“Shut up, Margot!” He snapped. He used his grip to shove Will down to his knees, then to his elbows, until Will was whining with pain into the carpet. “Where the  _ bitch _ goes, the  _ mutt  _ will follow. He’ll sniff you out  _ any minute _ , now. Stay here, while the Master at Arms and I have a little chat with your  _ Alpha _ .” He released Will’s hair, pulling back to deliver a swift kick that knocked him towards Margot’s waiting arms. 

"Will," she sighed against him, tone resigned, expression pained. He refused to apologize, refused to say anything at all except what needed to be said.

"Margot you have to get on deck before Mason stops you. They'll put women and Omegas on the boats first and you  _ have to go _ before he tries to keep you here."

"It won't matter."

"It matters to me," Will hissed, giving her a helpless look. "I hate that I've messed up and made your life harder. You've always been kind to me. I don't want you to die because of his fucking ego."

Margot sighed and stroked his hair. Will watched Mason, when he stepped out into the corridor and returned with the Master at Arms, when he bent to whisper to him so Will wouldn't hear.

He hoped. He  _ hoped _ Hannibal wouldn't follow, but he knew he would.

He smelled him before Hannibal even stepped into the suites and whined when he was immediately apprehended.

"A  _ thief _ ," Mason declared, "and a fiend. Taking the innocence of a poor  _ stupid _ Omega in heat. I want him in irons and I want him held until we dock."

"We won't dock, Mason! The ship is sinking!"

" _ This ship can't sink."  _ Mason yelled. "It cannot and it will not, and your pathetic  _ swine _ of a rapist will await the hand of the law."

"He didn't rape me!" Will screamed back, helpless.

“He’s  _ confused,”  _ Mason assured the Master at Arms, who did not appear to be listening to Will, regardless. “You know how  _ needy _ they get. They think a  _ knot  _ is  _ affection _ and a bite is  _ love.” _

“Hannibal-“

Mason’s arm went around Will’s shoulder, his hand over his throat, the threat implicit. He bent to whisper in Will’s ear, while Hannibal bared his teeth at him. “If you keep up your  _ spoiled _ little tantrums, I’ll kill him  _ myself _ . There’s  _ plenty _ of ocean between us and New York, little bitch, and any  _ bastard _ he gave you will join him.”

Will swallowed thickly, his eyes locked on Hannibal as they started to lead him away. He’d drown, in irons, but if Will could just get away, if he could slip free from Mason in the confusion. 

There were a lot of ifs. A whine built in Will’s throat, and Hannibal looked back over his shoulder at him. “It will be alright,” he mouthed, and for once, Will didn’t believe him. 

When they were left alone, Mason let Will go long enough to spin him towards himself and backhand Will across the face.

"You little  _ slut _ . You reek of him. Of  _ slick _ . Filthy whore, you'll regret this."

Will panicked; all he could think of was Hannibal and the ship sinking and the boats… they would never get to the boats. So with all his might Will pulled back and spat at him.

The shock was enough for Mason to let go of him, and that lapse was enough for Will to bolt. 

He was out the door and up the corridor, weaving through butlers and maids and confused first class passengers. He hit his shoulder against a wall, bouncing back uncaring, he swung himself into the elevator before it could close, catching the metal gates with his hand.

"Take me down."

"No, sir, we're forbidden -"

"Take me  _ down _ I said!"

"Sir, you're bleeding."

Will brought a hand to his face, catching the coppery smell of blood for the first time. Mason must have hit hard enough to set off a nosebleed. He looked back over his shoulder, to the boy again, and whined.

The kid stared at him, swallowed, and stepped aside for Will to get in, closing the gates with a clatter before someone ran full tilt into them.

"I'll  _ fucking _ kill you, Will! I'll do it for  _ spite _ , you hear me?"

"Down," Will begged the boy quietly. "Down to where the Master at Arms would take a prisoner."

The boy immediately set them off, staring with wide eyed fright at the growling Alpha battering the gates. 

“When I get my hands on you, Will-“

But whatever it was he would do, he did not get a chance to say. The elevator dipped out of sight, just as someone came to try and appease Mason. 

“If you need to speak to the Master at Arms, his office is down the corridor on the left, but- Sweet Jesus!”

As they reached the correct level, water spilled in over their feet, cold as ice. 

“I’m going back up-“

“No!” Will shouted, slamming his fist against the gate. “No, I need to be on this floor.”

“You’ll be taking the stairs back up,” the boy threatened, but on Will’s furious look, he quickly opened the gates. Will stumbled out into ankle deep water, the gates closing immediately behind him. 

“You’re crazy,” the boy told him, “it’s right what they say about you lot in heats. Fucking lunatics.”

Will bared his teeth as he’d seen Hannibal do, turning quickly to rush down the hall. 

The water grew deeper as he walked, the ship slowly tilting. The water was painfully freezing, as Hannibal had once warned. It even tamped down the heat in Will’s belly, his body too shocked and shivering to care that it needed an Alpha. “Hannibal!” Will shouted down the hall. “Hannibal!”

The water made his voice echo strangely, sounds amplified and muted all at once, and beneath it all a mournful groan of the ship as it lowered into the Atlantic. Will felt panic crawl up his throat. He couldn’t smell Hannibal, not with the freezing salt water smell clogging up all his senses. Instinct made him want to rush for the stairs, to get as far out of the water as he possibly could. A stronger one pushed him onward.

“Hannibal!”

They hadn’t taken him that long ago, surely? Will had lost all sense of time since Anthony had told them of the iceberg. It felt at once like hours and moments only. Perhaps Hannibal hadn’t been taken down here? Perhaps he’d been kept on the upper deck while chaos raged downstairs?

The ship tilted again, groaned once more, and Will was slammed against the wall, calling out softly in pain. Then he heard it, a frantic clanging that didn’t fit with the rest of the whalesong of the sinking vessel. Something - or someone - trying to draw attention. Will listened.

Left. He thought. Maybe. Maybe left. The boy had said left hadn’t he?

“Hannibal? Hannibal can you hear me? Can anyone hear me?”

More clanging, hollow voices. Definitely left. 

Will turned and trudged through water that was up to his waist now, using his hands to shove it away, as though that would help at all. He kept calling Hannibal’s name, kept listening for the banging of metal to metal until he heard his own name and flung himself at the door it had come from.

Hannibal had been cuffed to a pipe that ran from floor to ceiling and was clinging to it now as he stood on a table trying to escape the rising water. When Will saw him he whined.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You shouldn’t be down here,” Hannibal told him, protective instincts kicking in, “Will, you’ll freeze.”

“You’ll  _ drown _ ,” Will pointed out, hurrying over to inspect the handcuffs. “They just  _ left _ you here?”

“Every man for himself,” Hannibal said wryly. “Will, listen to me. We need to find the keys.”

Will nodded, wading back across the room. The water was circling his thighs now, creeping upwards. He opened every drawer, every cabinet until he found keys, but when he did…

“Hannibal, there must be hundreds of keys in here!”

Hannibal muttered something that sounded obscene under his breath. “One for every room in the ship, I’m sure. Just bring me a few handfuls, and then go. I’ll be right behind you.”

Hannibal was crazy if he thought Will was leaving him here. “I have a better idea.” 

He’d seen the fire axe on his way down the hall. He had to practically swim to get it now. It seemed like they were sinking faster and faster with every passing second.

“Hold still,” he said when he returned. “Pull the chain tight.”

Hannibal looked at the axe doubtfully. “Do you know how to use that?”

“I used to help my dad chop firewood when I was a boy. Hold  _ still.” _

Hannibal did, his eyes shut tight as Will hefted the axe. It took three well-practiced swings, but the chain finally snapped, freeing Hannibal from the pipe. Almost immediately, Hannibal was on him, cupping Will’s face in his hands and checking him over for injuries. “He hurt you. You’re bleeding.”

“He doesn’t matter, nothing matters, we have to go, we have to get to a boat -”

“You’ll get to a boat, Will, they’ll take the women, children and Omegas first.”

“Not without you.”

“Will -”

“If we don’t move, right now, we’re going to die, Hannibal.” Will pointed out, taking both of Hannibal’s hands in his and pulling him to the door. “You can chasten me on the way up. We have to take the stairs.”

“Brave boy,”

The ship was groaning again when they splashed out into the corridor, Hannibal cursing the temperature of the water as Will laughed. He was giddy again, but this time it was adrenaline driving him to survive, Alpha at his side. His heat helped to keep Will warm, to keep him going when the cold shook Hannibal to the core.

“Shit,” the corridor Will had come through was filled nearly to the ceiling, just enough air between the water and the flickering lights to press their cheeks to to breathe. “How long can you hold your breath?”

“No,” Hannibal said immediately, wrapping an arm around Will’s waist to pull him close. “No, Will, we have no idea what the staircase will be like, if it will be flooded-“

“Do you have a better plan?” Will was stiff in his arms. He smelled good enough to perk up Will’s screaming instincts, even through the salt, but Will’s body was still struggling against the cold. 

Hannibal looked pained when he let Will go. “Quickly,” he said, “before it gets any worse.”

Will tossed his life vest aside. They waded into the water, hips, waists, chests. Both cursing, Will letting out soft little whines that made Hannibal wince every time. Eventually, Will was on his toes, then awkwardly trying to swim while staying as close to the ceiling as he could, and then…

Will’s head went under, the water muffling out any other sounds, nothing but his own heartbeat in his head. A hand gripped his wrist, dragging him along. Will trailed his free hand along the ceiling, searching for air and finding  _ nothing _ . His lungs burned, his chest was tight. They were going to die here, in the bowels of the ship. No one would ever find their bodies, and he’d had such scant hours with Hannibal.

Hannibal’s nails dug into his skin and he  _ yanked _ , hauling Will up until his head broke the surface. He gasped for breath, heaving as Hannibal pulled him up a set of stairs, until the water was ankle deep once more, but rising. 

A gate had been drawn across the doorway, presumably to keep people from returning for their belongings. But now it stood between them and freedom, and it was locked. 

“We have to go back,” Will whispered. "The axe-“

“The water will be deeper,” Hannibal told him, “the corridor longer, and we barely made it the first time.”

Will whined, unable to keep his sounds under control when he was so cold, and so desperate. He smashed against the gate, and again, and again, until Hannibal pulled him close and let Will bury his nose against his throat.

“We can’t be stuck here, not like this, not like  _ this, _ Hannibal.”

“Hush, we’ll find a way.”

“Where?” Will whined again. “How?”

The sound of keys, as many keys as Will had found in the room Hannibal had been imprisoned in, if not more. Jangling and shifting and moving against someone’s thigh as they ran. Will turned from Hannibal, shoving himself against the gate again, shaking it and yelling as loudly as his voice could carry.

The keys stopped.

“Please,” Will reached through the gate towards the steward at the end of the corridor. “Please open the gate.”

The man trembled, watching the water crawl its way up the corridor towards him, watching how it crawled up the legs of the two shaking men at the locked gate. After a moment he cursed quietly, jogging to them and hissing at the temperature of the water.

“I don’t know which key,” he admitted, trembling hands seeking out the first probable one and shoving it into the keyhole.

He’d gotten it wrong. It fit poorly in the lock, and when he tried to remove it, it caught, and the whole fob slipped from his fingers, down into the water that now churned around their hips. 

The man looked at them, wide eyed, terrified. 

“Please,” Will whispered, “ _ Please.” _

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered back, turning on his heel and bolting down the hall. 

Hannibal's fury was palpable, but Will was already dropping, head dipping below the water as he groped through the bars at the bottom of the gate. 

“I can’t find the,” he gasped when he came back up, “Hannibal, I  _ can’t-“ _

The water was rising faster and faster, as the ship tilted more and more into the sea. Hannibal dropped down beside him, both of them groping for the keys. 

Finding them was the easy part. Will yanked them back through the bars, but his relief was short lived. Standing, he found the water up to his chest. 

“Here.” Hannibal took the ring from him, fumbling blindly with the lock. Not the first key, nor the second. Will’s shoulders were under. He began to cry, terror gripping him. He reached for Hannibal, clinging to his side as Hannibal tried another key, another, as the water reached his chin, as Will grabbed Hannibal's hand and helped him keep steady for one more key. 

They practically tumbled through the open gate, hauling each other along, up the stairs, fleeing the water and gasping for breath. Will’s teeth were chattering. His face burned, fever spiking as his body worked overtime to try and keep him warm. 

Hannibal set his hand to Will’s forehead, humming when he caught the warmth there, even as Will shook. “We have to get you to a boat, Will.”

Will shook his head, clutching to Hannibal, just keeping him near. His heart was in his throat, his mind was blurring with panic and heat and he needed it clear, he needed to stay  _ here _ for this. This was hardly time for his goddamn hormones. Will shook his head again, this time harsher, clearing it with a soft whine.

“We’ll find one that’s taking Alphas too,” he said. “They can’t separate us if I’m in heat, it’s inhumane.”

“Humanity has a tendency to degrade when survival is on the line,” Hannibal murmured, but he didn’t argue, just leaned in to kiss Will’s forehead, his cheek, his lips. Letting Will take what he needed before his Omega - brave, extraordinary thing that he was - stood first and pulled Hannibal to his feet.

The deck was a scene entirely out of reality. People dressed in their Sunday best drank whiskey as terrified women tried to usher their children further up the ship, away from the creeping waters. A quartet played, in the middle of the sounds of sobbing and begging, the moaning of the boat, the terrifying crunch of breaking wood. Fireworks illuminated the doomed vessel, celebratory flares at once grotesque and necessary.

Will just blinked, staring, unable to do more than cling to Hannibal’s hand before his Alpha tugged him along. They passed boats being slowly filled with first class passengers. Women and children, frail, scared looking Omegas who reached for their Alphas still on board the ship. The whines made Will ache, made him cling harder to Hannibal’s hand.

“There’re no boats left,” Will whispered, looking wildly around them. “There can’t be… we can’t be that late, it’s only been a few minutes, it’s -”

“Will,” Hannibal turned him, setting his hands on either side of Will’s face before leaning in to nuzzle him roughly, spreading his scent, taking on Will’s. “Sweetling, brave boy. You have to get on this one.”

“No, Hannibal, not without you.”

“Will,” Hannibal repeated, gently stroking his hair from his face, soothing a thumb over the bruise Mason’s backhand had left. “You have to trust me.”

He looked over Will’s shoulder just a moment, and suddenly hands were on him, hauling Will up by his waist, setting him into the lifeboat already lowering into the water, filled to capacity. Someone grabbed his hand and Will turned to bare his teeth, finding Margot there to pull him into an embrace.

“We’ll be okay,” she said. “We’ll be okay, Will, there are boats on the other side taking Alphas. We’ll take this one.”

“Then I’ll go on that one,” Will told her frantically, struggling to free himself from her hold, head up to look for Hannibal leaning over the railing.

“Will, you’re burning up. Here,” She draped him in a coat that reeked overwhelmingly of Mason. It was too cold to give it back, but the scent just made Will’s yearning for his own Alpha greater. 

“It’ll be alright, Will. It will be fine.” Hannibal’s voice was steady, his expression calm, but his eyes…

There were no boats waiting for him on the other side. Hannibal knew that, and now Will knew it too. Hannibal would have to chance the water, the cold, and Will was struck with the sudden terrified suspicion that if he let Hannibal out of his sight now, he would never see him again. 

“He’ll get one of the other boats,” Margot assured him, “Mason went to take one too.”

“Then why isn’t he moving?”

Margot had no answer for that, because she knew the truth as well as Will did. Mason would have bought his way onto a boat. There would be nothing for the poor, nothing for Hannibal. 

Will jerked to his feet, the entire boat rocking as he moved, people screaming and yelling, Hannibal and Margot calling his name as he climbed up onto the edge and  _ jumped.  _

He caught himself painfully on the edge of the guard rails on one of the lower decks, feet scrabbling against the side as he began to slip. Startled onlookers grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him up, dropping him onto the heavily slanted deck. He didn’t have time to thank them. He was already up and running. 

“Hannibal!  _ Hannibal!” _

He was dizzy, he was too hot, he was too tired, but he had to find his mate, he had to. Shoving people aside, catching himself against anything he could find as his feet slipped on the deck, Will clambered his way up, further and further until he saw him. 

Just as panicked, just as wild and shaking with as much rage as relief, Hannibal caught Will as he slammed into him, kissing him deep, clutching his hair, growling against his lips.

"You're so stupid," Hannibal whispered, voice breaking as he turned to nuzzle against him. "Will, you're so stupid. Why? Why did you do it? You could have been safe, you could've -"

"You jump, I jump, remember?" Will told him, clinging to his shirt and turning his face against Hannibal's throat. "Boat or no boat, Hannibal, come what may I'm never leaving your side again."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The night grew quieter. It had been so very loud when the ship went down, when Hannibal had hauled him up to stand on the bow, to stay out of the water as long as possible until the ship finally vanished into the sea._
> 
> _Everyone had been screaming. Will had been screaming. Hannibal had made an ungodly, horrible noise of distress when he’d dropped into the water._

When you were cold, when you were really,  _ truly _ cold, it felt like burning alive. 

Will was on fire from the inside out, clutching to the door Hannibal had found, sprawled halfway across it and woozy from the effort. His curls were frozen in chunks against his cheeks, and somehow, he thought he might be sweating. 

“Talk to me, sweetling,” Hannibal whispered, one hand wrapped around one of Will’s, “st-stay awake. Don’t go inside yourself. Be here with me.”

“Where else w-would I go?” Their voices were steam clouds, lit by moonlight. Around them, Will could still hear terrified wailing. A whine began to build in his throat, but Hannibal squeezed his hand tightly. 

“I’ve got you. I’ll k-keep you s-safe.” 

Hannibal couldn’t keep them safe. No one could, not now. But he kept trying. He’d fought off panicking passengers who dragged Will under in their desperate attempts to stay afloat. He’d found the door. He’d helped Will onto it. He was the only reason Will was still awake. 

“Tell me a s-story,” Will murmured, “Tell me where you’ll t-take me. When it’s over.”

Hannibal hummed, pressing his forehead to their joined hands. He’d been purring when they first found the door, keeping Will calm with his soothing sounds, with his scent. Now he was trembling, lips lilac with cold and silent but for his staggered breathing.

“You promised to show me Am-merica,” Hannibal reminded him with a weak laugh. “I think we’ll go riding. Like you said. In the desert where there is nothing but sand and the horiz-zon ahead.”

Will licked his lips. “Will it be warm?”

“So warm,” Hannibal sighed. “Too warm. We’ll be complaining, we’ll need to take lots of w-water when we go. For us and the horses.”

“Will you dress like a cowboy?” Will asked, and Hannibal’s smile pressed to the back of his hand, no warmer than the frozen skin there. “We’ll g-get you a hat. A gallon one.”

“That’d be nice,” Hannibal whispered, his voice growing quieter, weaker. Will gently shook his hand.

“Stay with me,” he reminded him.

“‘M right here,”

Will whined, just a helpless noise, and crawled closer to the edge of the door to set his forehead to Hannibal’s. They had tried to get on the door together, but any way they attempted, it either sank beneath them both or tipped them off. In the end, Hannibal had shoved Will atop and clung to the side himself.

“Hannibal,” Will breathed, shaking his hand again. “Hannibal, we’ll s-swap. I’ll be in the water a while.”

“No.”

“My heat’s k-keeping me warmer than you, I can take it, you need to get out of the s-sea.”

“No, Will.”

Will swallowed, closed his eyes, and rolled himself from the door anyway, gasping at the shock of the cold. He hadn’t realized he’d actually been warmer on the door. He hadn’t realized he could get colder. Hannibal immediately drew him near, trying to push him back up. Will managed a growl, weak and shivering.

“Get on the g-gooddamn door, Hannibal.”

“Your heat is  _ k-killing you _ ,” Hannibal insisted. “Your body is c-consuming all of its reserves to try and stay-“

“The water is killing  _ you _ .” Will’s voice was little more than a rasp, at this point, but his anger and stubbornness came across. Hannibal climbed onto the door, hauling Will as close as he could while Will shivered and shook. 

“This goes against every inst-stinct I have as an Alpha,” Hannibal whispered against their joined hands. “If you f-freeze, Will, it will d-destroy me.”

“Just k-keep talking,” Will begged. “B-be angry. Lecture me. P-promise me punishment. Stay awake.”

“My brave Omega, how c-can I be angry?”

The night grew quieter. It had been so very loud when the ship went down, when Hannibal had hauled him up to stand on the bow, to stay out of the water as long as possible until the ship finally vanished into the sea. 

Everyone had been screaming. Will had been screaming. Hannibal had made an ungodly, horrible noise of distress when he’d dropped into the water. 

“Louisiana,” Will whispered. “It’s s-so hot there, Hannibal. I used to cry in the summer. We’ll g-go together. There’s work, even for Omegas, the d-docks don’t care what you are ‘long as you fish.”

“You won’t need it,” Hannibal swore. “Will. Will, I’m a c-count. I’ll write my uncle. You’ll have everything, Will,  _ everything.” _

Will laughed, helpless, and wondered how he was possibly summoning tears to his face right then. They were a cruelty rather than a mercy; as soon as they warmed his cheeks they froze to them.

“A count?” he asked, shaking his head when Hannibal hummed the affirmative. “L-look at us both. A pauper in first class, a c-count in steerage. How lucky we are to have f-found each other.”

He brought his other hand up to cling to Hannibal’s with both of his. They were pressed so close that their hair froze together, strands fused where they met. Will’s body was on fire, the aching need to be filled warred with the devastating need to survive. He could feel how hard his body was working, he would feel how exhausted he was, but he couldn’t stop fighting, not when there was a chance, even the smallest, that they could be rescued.

“Maybe the boats’ll come back,” he mumbled, his proper speech long forgotten, drawl heavy and thick and familiar against his tongue. Hannibal made a helpless sound, too exhausted to keep promising survival when it was cruelly out of reach. He kissed Will’s frozen fingers instead. Will sighed between them, breath coiling and vanishing in the crisp air.

It seemed that there was no one around them at all, they were the only ones in the ocean, alone and forgotten. Once in a while he would hear a cry, or a wail, and an answering call, but more and more there was nothing at all.

“We’ll have kids,” Will decided after a while, forcing himself to stay awake. “I w-want us to have a family… to w-watch them grow.”

“I love you,” Hannibal replied quietly, and something in Will snapped that he hadn’t let loose since he jumped from the lifeboat. A bone-deep panic, an instinct so strong it choked him.

“Don’t you d-dare say goodbye,” he hissed. “Don’t you d-dare leave me right now, Hannibal I need you,”

“M’not,” Hannibal promised, but it was weak, hazy. “I’m right here.”

The tears froze on Will’s eyelashes. He didn’t think he could have let go of Hannibal even if he wanted to; his hand felt as if it had frozen in position, hard as stone.

“I love you,” he sobbed, choked and ragged, “I love you, Hannibal, I-I-“

“You n-need to get out of the water,” Hannibal whispered to him.

“N-no, you’re s-so c-cold-“

“I’ve been cold before.”

Hannibal slipped into the water, helping Will back into place. Will was too dizzy to move on his own, nauseous and cramping. 

“Hannibal,” Will whispered, “I don’t want to die.”

“Hold on tight,” Hannibal told him. 

Will held on. Until his fingers ached anew, until the world darkened in his eyes. Until words stopped coming to his lips. 

He held on. He stayed awake. And finally, he heard it. 

“Is anyone alive out there?”

A light, on the horizon. A boat. 

“Hannibal.” Will’s voice was little more than a squeak. “Hannibal, a b-boat.”

Hannibal…. Hannibal was asleep, his eyes closed, his head pressed to Will’s hands. He was asleep, too tired to wake up when Will shook him. 

“Is anyone alive out there?”

“Us,” Will rasped, “We’re here, we’re  _ here _ .”

But the boat was moving onward, moving  _ away _ , and Will’s voice wouldn’t raise higher than a whisper. 

Instinct took over, his body working double to save itself. The whine built in his belly, high, distressed. Quieter, much quieter, than it should have been, but audible across still waters on a silent night. 

The light turned to illuminate them. 

He whined again, clinging to Hannibal, trying to shake him awake, trying to get him to make a sound too, to show them they were okay, to bring the boat closer. He felt like his throat was on fire, like his entire body was going to combust, and Hannibal wouldn’t wake up, he wouldn’t wake  _ up _ -

“We have one!” the voices sounded like they were coming from underwater. “We have one! Keep looking! Keep checking everyone!”

“P-please -” Will gasped as he felt hands - warm, burning-hot hands - against his shoulders. “H-H-Hannibal will get so c-cold if we d-don’t get him -”

“He’s gone, kid, I’m sorry,”

Will’s wail broke sharp through the night in his panic. He refused to let go of Hannibal’s hands when someone tried to pull him from the door and into the boat.

“No, n-no, check him, p-p-please check, he’s just c-cold, he j-just -”

“He’s dead, sweetheart, you have to let him go.”

“NO! Hannibal!  _ Hannibal _ -”

His hands broke from Hannibal’s and he screamed, flailing as much as his weak body allowed as he was lifted and put into the depths of the lifeboat. Alone. Without Hannibal. Without his Alpha. Without his love. Without -

“He’s got a pulse!”

Will’s eyelids flickered, everything blurred in his vision, voices distorting more and more -

“He’s got a pulse, get him up!”

* * *

Will only found out later, from reading the papers, from what Hannibal had told him, from other first hand accounts, that the boats pulled eleven people out of the water that night. Fifteen hundred had gone in when Titanic slipped beneath the surface. The number was unfathomable to him, impossible.

But stranger things had happened.

He found out that when Hannibal had been hauled into the boat the two of them had been stripped of their frozen clothing and pushed together, wrapped in woolen blankets and overcoats and anything the people on board could find to keep them warm.

He found out that his heat had saved the two of them, sparking the warmth between them enough to bring Hannibal to consciousness, to stir his frozen mind into action to protect his Omega, to keep him safe.

He found out that he hadn’t woken for four days.

But that was later, that was years later, when Will no longer woke in screaming panic in bed, terrified that water was creeping up his ankles. That was later, when he finally spoke about it to someone who hadn’t been there.

Now, his eyes peeled themselves open and he wondered if he’d died. Everything around him was bright, and clean, and warm. He was  _ warm _ .

A squeak left him. Not a whine, or a whimper. Not a word. Just a little, broken crack, his voice rusty with disuse. 

It was enough. Hannibal was with him,  _ Hannibal _ , cupping Will’s hand in his own  _ warm _ hands, smiling down at him like he’d done something wonderful. 

“The boats,” Will told him, because it seemed like the most important thing, “the boats came back.”

“They came for us,” Hannibal confirmed. “You saved my life, sweetling.”

Will shook his head. It was pounding. His mouth was dry, his lips chapped. “Where…?”

“New York,” Hannibal told him, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “A hospital in New York. You slept through the rest of it. Your body needed to replenish what it lost.”

The aching need was gone. He’d skipped his heat altogether, and only survived because of it. It made Will dizzy to think about. 

“I sent a telegram to my Uncle, in Paris-“

“No Paris,” Will insisted. “No more ships.”

Hannibal chuckled softly. “Alright, sweetling. No more ships. Get some rest.”

Will wanted to argue that he’d already had four days of rest, but sleep was already tugging at him, pulling him back into its arms. He could relax now. They were safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading with us and sticking it through!

**Author's Note:**

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